


You Will Rise Like a Phoenix, Bathing in Sunlight

by LunaDiviners



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Famous Harry, Famous Liam, Famous Niall, M/M, Makeup Artist Louis, Non-Famous Louis, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Strangers to Lovers, Vomiting, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaDiviners/pseuds/LunaDiviners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it feels like acting is all Harry has anymore. Even though Harry has no one to come home to anymore, no one to lay down in his bed with and tell them about his day or how he’s feeling in general, no one to comfort him or console him on his bad days and no one to make him laugh even harder on his good ones. Even if he has none of that, he still has his job. He still has acting. </p><p>He can still pretend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Will Rise Like a Phoenix, Bathing in Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happilylouie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happilylouie/gifts).



> Oh my goodness! I can't believe it's time to actually post this story!
> 
> I honestly had SO MUCH FUN writing this! All the prompts that I received were amazing and I felt like I could work with every one that was given. However, I felt that the one I ended up picking was the one that spoke to me the most. The prompt is found at the end, where the final notes will be. I would also like to thank my beta, S, for helping me and supporting me throughout the story!
> 
> Also: the title of the story is taken from Lana Del Rey's song, "I Can Fly".
> 
> A short note: a lot of the names of films and songs that I included in here (especially at the beginning of the story and whenever the characters are talking about Niall) are completely made up. I came up with the names myself, just to let you guys know!
> 
> But anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this story!

**I**

 

“ _After being discovered at the age of six, this young actor has built his way up and come to attain some of the most outstanding achievements in the cinematic industry throughout his lifetime. He was casted in the last two James Bond films with a supporting role and received critical acclaim as well as an Academy Awards and three Golden Globes in his career, which are absolutely magnificent accomplishments in this man’s young age._ ”

Nick Grimshaw’s voice sounds grainy coming from the miniscule microphone that’s pinned to his black suit jacket, the overly enthusiastic tone of his voice echoing loudly throughout the backstage area of the studio. Harry shifts anxiously in his seat, waiting for Nick to finally announce his name so he can walk on stage for his interview.

His manager, James, had requested for the interview to take place. Nick was more than pleased to agree to have Harry on his show, after all he was _the_ Harry Styles. But despite his success, Nick’s reaction to the whole ordeal gave Harry a newfound sense of pride that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Only the best of Hollywood appeared on _It’s a Fabulous Life! with Nick Grimshaw_.

It has been a while since Harry’s last interview, and even though he’s done hundreds of them in his lifetime, Harry always finds his hands dampening with sweat and his heart rate increasing in his moments of pre-show anticipation. It’s a feeling that not even years of experience can change.

“ _It is certainly my pleasure to be interviewing him tonight. And now ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome to the stage none other than Mister Harry Styles!_ ”

Getting up from the wooden chair that was set up on the sidelines, Harry strides his way onto the stage and waves out to no one in particular, producing a huge uproar of applause from the studio audience as soon as they see this. The lights hit his face instantly, blinding him for a few moments before he recollects himself and approaches Nick, who stands in the center of the studio with a huge grin on his face. They shake hands and Nick guides Harry to the two light blue sofas that are located just behind them; this is where Nick’s interviews always take place on his show, and as soft and comfy the sofas may be, they don’t seem to aid in calming down the buzz of Harry’s pre-show nerves.

The applause soon dies out as both Nick and Harry get settled in their seats, Harry clearing his throat a few times before the short silence that rises between everyone signals the start of the interview. He makes sure to look out to the audience a few times before Nick begins to speak. Harry sees an abundance of happy faces seated in front of him, and he comes to the assumption that for many of his fans this must be their first time ever seeing him in person. The sight warms Harry’s heart a bit; he loves his fans so much, he truly owes them everything.

“Wow!” Nick exclaims, extending an arm and placing the palm of his hand on the arm of the sofa. He’s subtly wriggling around a short stack of rectangular sheets of paper in his opposite hand, which is where Harry’s questions for their little discussion are probably written down. There aren’t that many, so the tension in Harry’s shoulders release a bit at the sight of that. “I have to say Harry, in all the years that this show has been running, I’ve never heard an audience clap for a guest as loud as they just clapped for you! Congratulations!”

Nick’s statement only tempts the audience to respond by cheering twice as loud, and Harry feels his cheeks warming up due to the flattering accolade he just received. Nick takes the reddening of Harry’s cheeks as a good start to their interview.

“Well Mister Styles, I’d say you look very handsome this evening,” he tells Harry, and he earns a few whistles from the audience.

Chuckling, Harry tugs at his dark blue suit jacket and responds with: “Thank you. You look very good yourself, Nick. Say, have you been exercising?”

Twice the amount of whistles arise from the audience, and both Nick and Harry share a laugh. “I have to admit, I have been going to the gym lately.”

“You look really good, believe me.”

“Why thank you, Harry,” Nick says, briefly looking down to his papers with a blush painting over the surface of his cheeks. Harry smirks.

He has always been quite the charmer.

“Now Harry,” Nick begins after a clear of his throat, “there have been some rumours going around.” At the short pause, Harry can hear some of the audience members whispering to one another. “And don’t worry, no relationship rumours this time.” There are a couple of sighs of relief from the audience. “These rumours actually have to do with you landing a role in a new film called _Greed and Lullabies_ , which is reported to be releasing next year, and was confirmed to be directed by worldwide acclaimed director Simon Cowell.” Another round of whispers. “So I have to ask: are these rumours true?”

Harry sits up on the couch, preparing both Nick and the audience for his answer. “Yes Nick, the rumours are true.”

An outburst of clapping from the viewers briefly stops him from continuing, but Harry only smiles. He loves the surge of excitement he gets when his fans find out about one of his new projects, and he appreciates the support they give him. He doesn’t know where he’d be without his fans.

“That’s amazing, Harry. And this is your first time working with him, right?” Nick asks.

“That’s right. We actually met up about two weeks ago, and uh, we were discussing the story of the film and about the expectations we wanted to meet for it. There’s a lot to the story and I would love to share that conversation with you but,” he pauses, and the entire studio quiets down in response, “unfortunately I don’t know how much I’m allowed to reveal about the film yet.”

Nick groans dramatically at that and Harry finds himself chuckling at his reaction. This is something that Nick tends to do on his show: when he’s about to receive the information he needs he gets restlessly eager, but when that chance is taken away he begins to supplicate; he’d do anything for direct information.

“Come on, Harry! Surely there’s something you can tell us!”

Harry presses his fingers against his chin, pondering for a bit before coming up with some sort of information for Nick. To anyone, it would look like Harry is actually trying to search for useful (but vague) details on the movie. In reality, he already knows what to say and he’s pausing for this long in order to get a kick out of seeing Nick shift eagerly in his seat and silently yearn for Harry’s words.

After all, Harry _is_ an actor. He knows how to obtain a reaction out of people. And he loves every second of it.

“Well the movie does begin filming next week,” is what he decides to say, and the expression on Nick’s face is more than enough to let Harry know that he approves of the information being given. “And I believe we’re going to film in Vancouver for the majority, if not the entirety, of the movie.”

“Very interesting,” Nick comments, and he glances down at the cards that are still in his hands. “There are also rumours that a certain previous co-star, Liam Payne, will also take part in this movie. Is that true?”

Harry nods, and the audience cheers at the confirmation. Liam is just as successful as Harry (but Harry exceeds him in the amount of awards received just a little), loved by hundreds of thousands of people. “That is true. In the movie I have a slightly bigger role than Liam does, but we’re both still supposed to be in a lot of scenes together, which is great.”

“I’m sure. As I said before, you two have worked together in some other movies, like _Sweet Song of a Choir_ and _Mister Inconspicuous_. What was your reaction when you found out that you two were going to be in another movie together?”

“Liam and I are really close friends,” Harry answers, words forming easily for him, “we keep in touch and we speak a lot, and most of the time we even get together and go to clubs and parties like the normal twenty-two year olds that we are, of course.” The audience laughs at that statement. “So when I found out that we were going to be in the same movie again, I didn’t really think of it as anything special. I mean, he’s a marvelous person to work with! But I just thought of it as two good friends reuniting again, which is really nice.”

“And do you think Liam feels the same way?”

The question hits Harry a little harder than it should, and the corners of his lips turn in the opposite direction. But the frown is not large enough for anyone to actually comment on it, and so Harry shrugs his shoulders and says the first thing that pops into his mind before he chuckles quietly to himself. “I sure hope so. It’d be kind of unfortunate if that weren’t the case.”

Grimshaw chuckles at that. “Of course. Now, shall we continue?”

Harry nods, giving one last smile to the audience before Nick resumes with the interview.

 

*****

 

“Why do people always assume that Humpty Dumpty’s an egg?”

Niall’s voice should be barely audible within the deafening volume of music in the club, but he’s completely drunk off his arse, so his voice makes it just over the music. Harry finds himself bursting into a fit of giggles at the stupidity of the question.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” is what he asks, and he sways in his position a little. The drink in his hand is filled to the brim of the glass, almost spilling onto Harry’s new and expensive leather boots before Harry manages to steady himself. This may also be Harry’s fourth drink in the past hour or so, and he’s just now starting to see how the edges of his eyes are blurring his surroundings.

There are days when Harry’s alcohol tolerance is higher than usual, when he can consume about six drinks before his body starts to feel the effects. Today is not one of those days.

“Like the story doesn’t actually say he’s an egg.” Niall’s accent is extremely thick right now, Harry notes, which makes Niall sound like a completely new person. Does this always happen when he’s drunk? Harry doesn’t really know. “But people still draw him as one, which is really fucking offensive if you ask me. If somebody wrote a nursery rhyme after me and then everyone started drawing me as a food I wouldn’t be very happy.”

“You are so fucking drunk,” Harry states, the smile on his face never disappearing as he says this.

Despite the fact that Niall ends up saying the most idiotic things most of the time, Harry just can’t seem to stop loving the guy. It was like that night they met at Ed Sheeran’s album release party almost a year ago; Niall was completely out of it, cackling and spitting out unintelligible words at everyone that stood at least six or seven paces away from him (Harry being one of them, of course). Yet there was something that made the two of them _click!_ back then. Harry doesn’t know what it was, but he never cared enough to question it. Niall Horan is one of his closest friends now, and he wouldn’t trade him for anything.

“No shit. I think I’m seeing about five of you right now, H.” Niall waves his hand through the space on Harry’s right side as if trying to touch one of the duplicate Harrys that may be standing right there, and he accidentally ends up swatting a few people that walk past them. Everyone’s too drunk to give a fuck. “So yeah, so incredibly fucking drunk.”

Nothing stops him from taking another chug of the drink in his hand, and Harry finds himself giggling once again. Because of what Niall said, maybe. Because of the alcohol, most likely.

Minutes pass and a lot of people can’t seem to avert their eyes when they see two of Hollywood’s most well-known celebrities laughing and dancing in the middle of the club together. If it were anyone else they would probably feel uncomfortable at the feeling of everyone’s eyes on them as they try to relax and have fun, but Harry just feels indifferent about the entire situation. It’s not like he blames people for staring; if he wasn’t who he was and happened to be in the same room as a famous actor and a famous rock star, he’d stare too. (And probably freak out a little. But then again, who wouldn’t?)

The two only stop dancing when Harry feels a gentle tap on the back of his shoulder, to which he turns around slowly in response, because the alcohol is making the room spin, and he meets eyes with a girl. A girl who, undoubtedly, is a fan.

“You’re Harry Styles,” she says to him, but the words are so quiet that Harry isn’t sure whether it’s a question or just an obvious observation. He nods his head regardless, and the girl’s eyes widen as she takes in the information.

“I am Harry Styles,” he confirms as he sways to the music subtly in his current position.

“Oh my god. I am a _huge_ fan!” is what comes out of her mouth next. Judging by the way her cheeks are flushed and her eyes light up, Harry guesses that she probably wasn’t expecting to cross paths with him tonight. “But what are you doing here partying? Aren’t you supposed to be on Nick’s show tomorrow?”

“We actually recorded the interview this morning. The episode airs tomorrow, though.” When Harry speaks, his words slur involuntarily. But the fan doesn’t seem to mind, as she’s still staring at Harry like he’s a unicorn: with a horn growing out of the middle his head.

“Um, hello? Lead guitar player of Trash Magic standing right here,” Niall cuts in, taking the girl’s hand in his and sloppily pressing a kiss onto it. While Harry thinks the entire scene is gross, the girl’s cheeks only seem to deepen in their red colour as she and Niall start talking. And by the way their conversation is going, there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that Niall’s probably going to end up taking her to his place tonight.

Which reminds him: he should probably go find someone to fuck.

Because the two things that Harry Styles loves most in this world besides acting are alcohol and sex. And having both of them on the same night would simply be paradise in Harry’s mind. Being a famous actor has never stopped him from getting his two strongest desires because, well, who wouldn’t want to fuck Harry Styles? He’s famous, he’s rich, he’s charismatic, and he’s unbelievably spectacular in bed. It’s like the headline from the 2011 Men’s Vogue article, “ _Harry Styles: The Man On Top With No Way Down_ ”. Harry has always been at the top of his game. He always is.

 

*****

 

Harry leaves the motel the next morning early, hungover, and alone for various reasons. One of them being to avoid the paparazzi on his way home, because the last thing he wants is to have pictures being taken of him leaving the cheapest motel in town as if he has no class. Then there’s the fact that he’s supposed to meet Liam later today to help plan his wedding and it wouldn’t look good if Harry’s seen wearing the same thing he wore yesterday, so he needs a change of clothing. But most of all, he doesn’t want his one-night stand to wake up and think that whatever had happened the previous night had meant anything.

Because it didn’t.

It never does.

 

*****

 

The weather in Los Angeles always seems to be either a scorching, volcano-like hot, or a “being able to cook a small egg on the sidewalk” type of hot. And the fact that it’s early August doesn’t make it much better for Harry. It’s come to the point where he has to wear sunglasses wherever he goes in order to withstand the exhausting sunlight that always hits him in the face, and on a daily basis he has a mental debate on whether or not he should become a nudist just to be able to withstand the burning heat of California. He always chooses to wear clothes though, so there’s that.

He kind of wishes he wasn’t wearing any clothes today, however, because he and Liam and Niall are sitting together in an outdoor restaurant and the sun is viciously shooting its rays at Harry’s back and he kind of feels like if it continues on hitting him he’s going to liquefy. Liam is flipping through one of the dozen wedding magazines he decided to bring with him and Niall is trying to look like he didn’t go out and get so incredibly fucking shitfaced the night before. Harry’s just glad he didn’t forget his sunglasses at home today, because nobody can see how tired his eyes really are from underneath them.

“What about a green three-tiered cake,” Liam suggests, looking up from the magazine briefly to catch the other boys’ reactions, “with artificial flowers for decoration?”

“Green isn’t even one of the colours that go with the wedding theme Sophia picked, Liam,” Harry grunts, shutting his eyes in weariness, and he can hear Liam sigh at the rejected idea along with the sound of the flipping papers. “But personally, I think that the flowers are a nice touch.”

“I don’t know what I find funnier,” Niall joins in, using the utensils from the table as drumsticks as he strikes them against the edge, attempting to play the beat to one of Trash Magic’s songs, “the fact that Sophia only put you in charge of the cake or the fact that you’re actually freaking out about a cake that you’re going to end up eating on your wedding night which is _next year_ , if I may add.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “You’re getting married in January, so why are you worrying about the cake now?”

Liam sighs again, picking up a different magazine from the stack that sits in the center of the table. “Because we’re going to start filming _Greed and Lullabies_ next week, and it’s going to take about three months for the filming process to complete. This leaves Sophia and I two months to plan the rest of the wedding together, which is just not enough time!”

“Remind me to never get married,” Harry tells Niall once Liam goes back to his frantic flipping.

“Will do. You better do the same for me, though.”

“Of course.”

“But if I were to get married,” Niall continues, directing his words to Liam this time, “I wouldn’t get a three-tiered cake. My cake would have like five or six tiers with a chocolate fountain built in somewhere in there! You’re fucking rich, Liam. You can do anything you want with your cake, so don’t freak out about it mate.”

"Thanks for the words of advice," Liam responds, his tone of voice flat as he skims through each page of the magazine. "However I'm surprised to hear some sort of intelligence coming out of you today, since you got totally fucked over last night."

“What? No I didn't,” Niall lies, the beat of his fake drums faltering just the slightest.

“Nialler, I love you. But you're an awful liar.”

“Alright so maybe I did get a little drunk last night. But then again, I’m on a short break from tour and I just wanted to have some well-deserved fun at a club. Don't fucking judge.”

“You certainly looked like you were having fun,” Harry says, smirking to himself, “especially with your lips stuck to that one girl’s neck two hours after we got there.”

“Oi! Agnes had a beautiful neck!”

Harry lets out a soft snort. “Her name was _Agnes_?”

“Alright, listen here H,” Niall says, poking Harry with his unused fork. He’s squinting his eyes, the blue irises barely visible as he tries to look as serious as possible. But knowing Niall, that never works. “Her name may have been an old lady name, but she was into some really kinky shit in bed. Best fuck I’ve had in my life yet.”

Liam chokes on his drink a bit as Niall finishes his sentence, and both of the boys end up laughing at his reaction. As famous as he was, Liam has always been the more innocent one of the trio (to a specific extent, of course).

“You okay there, Payno?” Niall asks, giving Liam a sharp pat on the back.

After a few coughs, Liam sends a short glare in Niall’s direction. “I’m fine. I just - I did _not_ need to know that.”

“You’re welcome,” says Niall, and he goes back to his utensil jam session, this time playing a different tune from before.

Harry just laughs quietly to himself, taking a sip of the glass of water that sits in front of him.

It’s times like these when Harry really loves his friends. They all bring a variety of dynamics to the table; Niall with his sarcastic, goofy side, and Liam with his down-to-earth, solemn side. Harry likes to think that he’s right in the middle of the friendship scale: with both formal and carefree traits that shape him into who he is in this world. It’s nice being a balance of the two, that way he always finds something to relate to with Niall and Liam. They all keep each other in check, one way or another.

Which is why starring in this new movie is going to set things into instability for Harry. He won’t get to see Niall as much as he’d like to, and both he and Liam are going to have busy schedules during the film and even though their characters get a lot of on-screen time together, it doesn’t mean that the same is going to happen for both Liam and Harry off-screen. With Liam’s wild wedding planning situation and Trash Magic’s world tour going on in the background, Harry can already feel the strain of his eventual isolation building up in his head.

And even though he’d never admit it to anyone (not even himself), Harry doesn’t like it one bit.

“Okay guys, I got it!” Liam exclaims, looking up from the magazine with his eyebrows set high in excitement. Harry can practically see the light bulb floating above his head. “What about: a _blue_ three-tiered cake with artificial flowers?”

Niall and Harry groan in irritation, and Liam only laughs when he sees how annoyed the other two lads are. This wedding cake search was suddenly becoming a whole lot more fun, in Liam’s opinion.

 

*****

 

The first week filming goes incredibly well for Harry. From the moment he gets off the plane at Vancouver International Airport and is swarmed by fans to the second he’s sitting down in his customized actor's chair on set and talking to Simon Cowell about the different scenes in the film.

According to Simon and the script itself, Harry’s character in _Greed and Lullabies_ , named James Fair, is supposed to be a multimillionaire business CEO with the whole world in the palm of his hand. His only flaw is his tendency to show absolutely no trace of respect for those who play a role in his life.

The first scene Harry filmed for _Greed and Lullabies_ was the day after he arrived to the set, and he (or 'James' to be more precise) had to knock over an expensive office desk after throwing a tantrum in front of his employees. He’s pretty sure his tantrum was so believable he actually ended up scaring some of the cast and crew members.

But what can Harry say? He’s a quality actor.

Overall, Harry really likes his character. He thinks that James is more misunderstood by the world than anything else. And while some of the lines in the script may make James sound a bit bland, Harry’s confident that he can make the character come alive through his acting.

The only downside to James Fair is the fact that he’s not supposed to have any tattoos, and Harry’s arms and chest are covered with the dark ink. He’s tried to talk to Simon about this and tried to convince him to let James have tattoos, but to no avail. Which means that Harry has to have either Lou, his makeup stylist for the movie, or Hailee, her assistant, airbrush his tattoos every morning while they're filming.

_How fun._

Not that he dislikes Lou or Hailee. They’re both incredibly friendly people who have shown nothing but kindness towards Harry in their first week working together. It’s just the whole tattoo situation that he’s not too fond of. But it’s not something that can really push Harry’s buttons off his chest, only a small insignificant detail. It’s either a yes or a no from Simon, and he picked no, so.

Despite that, the first week of filming _Greed and Lullabies_ goes smoothly in every department.

Until the day that it doesn’t and they hit a rough patch with one of the crew members.

Harry gets up early that day, small bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. A day of filming ends at almost midnight on a daily basis, and Harry’s supposed to get up at a quarter to five every morning. _Fun._ But Harry’s not one to complain about that since there’s been films where there’d been much crazier filming schedules than this.

He makes his way to Lou’s work trailer on the set, where she keeps all her makeup and hair supplies and equipment. It’s not far from Harry’s own trailer, so the walk itself is quite brief. It's always quiet in the mornings, and because of the large distance from the Earth's equator, a bit cold. Canadian weather is always nice though, especially in the summertime. Much different than the sizzling desert that is Los Angeles.

When Harry knocks on Lou's trailer door, he instantly feels the relaxed atmosphere tense up. Lou opens the door for him, mumbling good morning before walking farther into the trailer. Her moves are frantic, teleporting around the place like it's her last day on the planet. Her blonde hair is in bun, different sections of it sticking out in various places in a way that is so messy that Harry wonders if she even had time to fix it after she woke up this morning.

"Good morning to you too, Lou," Harry says, words slowing down with every syllable spoken. But Lou is still wandering around the place, taking out different supplies out of every drawer and then putting them back in different spots. When Harry is able to catch a glimpse of her face, his eyes widen. She looks like she hasn't slept in weeks. "Is everything alright?"

"What? Oh!" Lou exclaims. Harry must have snapped her out of whatever thoughts must have been running through her mind. "Yes everything's fine, Harry. Just a bit messy, to put things lightly."

Harry sits in his usual chair, taking a good look in the mirror before opening his mouth again. "May I ask why?"

Lou mumbles a few more things to herself before she walks over to Harry with the tattoo airbrushing machine in hand. "Hailee left us last night."

Harry feels his jaw drop just the slightest bit. "She left us? How come? Is she okay? Is she alright?"

"As far as I know _she's_ fine, but," she plugs in the machine, gently grabbing Harry's arm so they can get started on the airbrushing process, "apparently there's been a family crisis in Fresno and she had to get over there right away.”

“Oh,” mutters Harry, shivering a little as the cool spray begins to paint his skin. He feels kind of bad for Hailee if he’s honest, having to leave work so suddenly and so out of her control. It’s a stressful thing to experience; Harry can almost find himself relating to it. “Did she say how long she was gonna be gone for?”

“No. But I talked to Simon late last night and we both called for a replacement, they said they should be arriving at any time between tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“That’s good!”

“I just hope I make it out alive by the end of the day,” she chuckles. She’s already halfway done the first arm, and Harry thinks this is the fastest she’s worked all week. But he can’t blame her. Hailee did a lot to help Lou out and now she’s stuck running a one-woman show.

“You’ll be fine, Lou.” Lou smiles a bit grimly in response to Harry’s reassuring statement. “You’ll be fine.”

“I sure hope so, my boy,” she says. “I sure hope so.”

 

*****

 

Later that night Harry finds himself in Liam’s trailer drunk and satisfied. After all, it’s a Saturday. They get Sundays off unless they’re in an urgent need of filming a scene, but that rarely happens at the start of the filming process. Directors usually worry about that stuff by the last couple of weeks.

Harry’s part-slurring, part-yelling, and part-singing the somewhat correct lyrics from Trash Magic’s most recent album when Liam interrupts him.

“Jesus, H! You’re about to make my ears bleed. How many drinks have you even had?” Liam asks this from his spot on his tiny sofa. He had just started drinking himself, downing two shots of Gin in the past five minutes. But being the responsible cupcake that he is, Liam will probably end up taking at least one more shot before he calls it a night.

“I don’t know but to be honest, Liam, I don’t give a fuck,” he answers, giggles escaping his mouth as he does so. He’s laying down on the couch opposite Liam, shot glass hanging loosely from the pads of his fingers. If he does his math correctly, the shot Harry just took before Liam’s question must have been his seventh one in the past fifteen minutes.

But Harry has always been awful at math, so yeah.

Everything in front of him is a blur. He can barely make out Liam’s face and they’re only a few feet apart from each other. The room is also spinning like a ballerina in motion, and Harry loves it when his mind goes crazy on him like this. It makes him forget about his responsibilities. It makes him feel different. It makes him feel like he’s in a completely different world. Like he’s Alice stuck in his own version of Wonderland. And even if it’s just for as long as the alcohol effects last, Harry doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind it one bit.

He stands up only to immediately lose his balance and fall back on the couch. There appears to be a set of liquor bottles on the coffee table in front of them, but the haziness of Harry’s vision prohibits him from being able to read the labels. _What on earth did Harry even drink?_

Harry goes back to singing on his second attempt to stand up from the couch. “ _Under our sweet, sweet Manhattan sky_ / _Baby, only the cold October weather bids us goodbye_.” He extends his arms in an over-dramatic manner, and his shot glass goes flying across the room, hitting the wall and shattering into dozens of pieces in the process. Neither Harry nor Liam flinch at the noise.

“ _Tales of an Unruly Paralegal_ ,” Liam says instead, raising his glass as if proposing some sort of toast. “Now _that_ , my friend, is a fucking good song.”

“Agreed. Definitely should’ve been a single. I’ll never forgive Trash Magic for making _21 Fridays of Lace_ the single instead.” He shakes his head, mostly to himself than to Liam. “Fuck you Niall and your blind promotional choices.”

Liam laughs loudly, setting his glass down on the coffee table before pouring himself another short drink. “You know, if I could, I’d make _Tales of an Unruly Paralegal_ me and Sophia’s song at the wedding. It’s that good of a song.”

“I don’t think Sophia would approve,” he giggles, sock covered feet taking him backwards. “Since, you know, not only is she the one that’s picking the music, but there’s also an unhealthy amount of swears and screams in the chorus of that song. I think her mother would be absolutely horrified if you two danced to that after reciting your vows.”

“I guess some dreams are meant to be only dreams, then.”

A spiky prickling at the bottom of Harry’s right foot interrupts his drunken laughter. When he looks down, he lets out a breathy yell. “Oh, shit!”

He must have accidentally walked into the remaining shards of the shot glass as his feet took him across the room of the trailer. The pain runs up his leg briefly, causing him to lift his foot in a physical instinct.

“Are you okay, H?” Liam asks, concern suddenly taking over his furrowed brows.

“Fine. I’m, _shit_ , I’m fine.” He tries grabbing the pieces of glass that lay near his feet, but in all his drunkenness and blurry vision he fumbles and cuts his hand in the process. “Fuck!”

Liam stands and begins to walk across the room. “Here, let me get a bandage for you.”

“No, it’s fine! I’m fine, Liam, really. Just too fucking drunk and tired, that’s all.” He shakes his hand, trying to make the stinging in his palm go away. “I should probably go back to my own trailer, anyways.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay here for the night? You’re really fucking drunk, Harry.” Harry only responds to that by opening the front door, free hand gripping the doorknob while the other is placed tightly against his chest. “At least let me walk you there.”

“It’s not even a two minute walk, Liam. I’ll be fucking fine. Goodnight!”

And with that he closes the door, leaving a groaning Liam behind to clean up Harry’s mess by himself, with only Harry’s drunken vision and the pain in his head and body to keep him company.

 

**II**

 

On Monday morning, Harry still feels a bit out of it. Even after spending the entirety of yesterday locked in his trailer groaning with a massive headache that has (for the most part) subsided. The cut on his hand is better now, having cleaned it the morning before. It's barely visible, and if one were to casually glance at it, it would go by unnoticed. His foot also hurts a lot less and he's not even limping anymore. Very, very nice, in Harry’s opinion.

He has just sat down on one of the chairs in Lou's hair and makeup trailer when she walks in, her previously frantic demeanor now vanished into the thin air.

"You're looking a lot better today," Harry notes, smiling at Lou as she sets down a set of makeup brushes on the counter in front of Harry. "I'm guessing things have calmed down around here?"

"You could say that," she says, placing a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"So what happened then?" He crosses his legs and rests his face against the palm of his hand, smiling eagerly at Lou as if they were exchanging secrets at a sleepover. "Tell me everything!"

She laughs, sitting down on a stool that rests beside Harry's chair. Using her finger to count all the products that they have in front of them, she speaks, "I, uh, I actually witnessed a miracle yesterday."

"A miracle, you say?"

"Yes, a miracle," she giggles at Harry's enthusiasm. She lifts her arms in a delightful motion. "My new assistant came in yesterday morning!"

“Wait Lou, that’s fantastic!” Harry tells her. “I know how much you’ve been stressing lately because of Hailee’s leave.”

“I know! Honestly, I’ve got Simon to thank for all this. I don’t know how he managed to find someone new so quick, but he’s done it! Good thing, too, since I feel like a few hairs have turned grey since Saturday.” She lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping with the action. “I’m just so glad I can finally relax a little now.”

“So,” Harry begins, stroking an invisible beard, “who is the new assistant? Is she nice? Curvy? As beautiful as I’m imagining? Does she have pretty eyes?” He flutters his eyelashes exaggeratedly as soon as he’s done asking that last question.

Lou giggles once again. “Actually, Harry, ‘she’s’ a--”

And then, as if on a rehearsed cue, there’s a knock on the trailer door. Lou stands from her stool and walks to the door, opening it for whoever stands behind it.

“Alright Louise, I got the materials that you ordered. Thought there’d be more boxes, but according to the delivery guys, only these ones were ordered in for today.” The person who speaks is not visible when they walk inside the trailer, as their face is being covered by the stack of boxes that they’re carrying. It’s not until the mystery person turns their body around so they can face Lou that Harry is finally able to see them. “However, I do think that if you call in now, you’ll be able t - oh.” He’s looking at Harry now, his eyes slightly widened in what appears to be slight shock and surprise. He gulps before speaking. “Well, you’re definitely not Louise.”

Harry stands from his seat and lets out a shaky breath as his eyes come to meet his, which, even though neither the man nor Lou are able to hear it, takes Harry by surprise. Because, well, even though Harry may have gotten the genders mixed up, the new assistant certainly has pretty eyes. _Very_ pretty eyes. At least he got that part right.

He opens his mouth to speak, to say _something_ to the beautiful specimen that just walked into the room, but is interrupted by his makeup artist in less than a second.

“I’m right here Louis, don’t worry! Let me help you with those.” She takes two of the large boxes in his arms, newfound relief easily identifiable in the man’s shoulders as he adjusts to the lack of weight being carried. Lou then turns to Harry. “Harry Styles, this is my new assistant, Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson, although you may already have heard of him, this is Harry Styles. He’s got the main role in the movie.”

Harry catches what appears to be Lou winking at Pretty Eyes before she disappears into the back of the trailer with the box in her arms, leaving the two of them standing alone in utter silence. Awesome.

Harry clears his throat, taking a few steps forward. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, likewise.” His voice is soft and a bit guarded, almost as if he’s unsure of what to say to Harry.

Bidding him a warm smile, Harry gestures to the boxes in his hands. “Do you need any help with those?”

But Pretty Eyes only takes a step backward, hugging the boxes tighter against his torso. “I’m, uh, I’m fine, actually. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Oh. Um, alright.” He watches as Pretty Eyes sets the boxes down in a faraway corner, his eyes involuntarily coming to land on Pretty Eyes’ arse.

And… damn.

A slight burning hits Harry straight in the groin.

Letting out a silent whoosh of air, Harry walks towards him again on his second attempt at starting conversation. “So, uh, this is technically your first day working on set. That must be pretty exciting, wouldn’t you say?” Harry mentally curses at himself for letting his voice come out the way that it does, making him sound all flustered and the sort.

“Not really,” Pretty Eyes answers, standing up and turning around to face Harry. The blue in his eyes seems to electrify everything in the room, leaving Harry at a loss of breath. Which is unusual. He must still be somewhat hungover. “I’ve worked in movies before, so this is nothing new to me.”

Harry nods as he follows along with his words.

After a few brief silent seconds, Pretty Eyes speaks again. “What I’m really excited about, though, is working with one of the best actors of our generation.”

A warm blush colors Harry’s cheeks. “Aw, thank you! I’m so flattered! It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Quirking an eyebrow in subtle amusement, Pretty Eyes responds with: “Actually, I was talking about Liam Payne. That man is a cinematic _genius_.”

Oh.

A mix of embarrassment and humiliation blends into the blush on Harry’s cheeks, and all he does is let out a barely audible “Oh” as Pretty Eyes continues walking around the workspace.

Well, things just got pretty awkward.

Recollecting himself, Harry continues. “I’m sure Liam will enjoy working with you, then. He’s a very friendly person, absolutely loves people.”

Pretty Eyes hums, his eyes wandering about the room as he tracks down different materials. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m a big fan.”

It’s clear that Harry is not the main focus of his attention, and whether Louis’ answer is meant specifically to see what Harry’s reaction to someone completely bypassing his acting ability would be or whether it’s just a genuine answer overall, it still leaves Harry speechless. And not in a good way.

None of them say anything else to break the awkward silence until Lou comes back into the area, a comb and a couple more makeup brushes in hand. “Alright lads,” she says as she studies a small watch on her wrist, “I’d love to keep chatting but we’ve got a schedule to maintain. Louis dear, please get the airbrush kit and Harry, let’s get to work.”

Both nod and mumble short responses before they rush off to their ordered positions, with neither of them speaking to the other throughout the entirety of the scenario.

 

*****

 

Liam walks up to Harry during a short break between takes the next day. They’re filming on a bridge in downtown Vancouver. The skies are cloudy and there’s a slight breeze picking up in the air, perfect for the mood they’re trying to create within this scene. Harry, however, is way too focused on finishing the orange he had just picked up from a fruit basket to take in the beautiful view that the bridge provides. And so when Liam actually speaks to him, Harry jumps and almost drops his orange in the process.

"How're you feeling, H?" Liam's dressed in a tight black suit, light brown hair combed back and beard trimmed slightly. Vincent Barlow, Liam's character in the film, is James Fair's rival and the antagonist of the story. But by the way that Liam is talking to Harry, it's clear to see that their relationship is the complete opposite behind the scenes. “Still hungover?”

“Not really,” Harry says, taking a bite out of his orange.

“At least you’re up and moving now. I’m glad you decided to get shitfaced Saturday instead of last night, I wouldn’t want to imagine having a repeat of the Tampa Fiasco.” Liam’s eyes broaden at the words as soon as they’re spoken, visibly biting his tongue as he gives Harry an apologetic look.

Harry swallows sharply. He should feel bad about the entire thing, he really should. But the thing is, the mentioning of the Tampa Fiasco doesn’t affect Harry as much as it used to. There’s been times that were much, _much_ worse than that, times that could tear him apart in a heartbeat if mentioned.

If anything, the Tampa Fiasco was now as insignificant as the cereal he had for breakfast this morning.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to br--”

“It’s fine Liam,” is all Harry says before he takes another piece of the fruit. “I’m over it.”

“Actors in places, everyone, actors in places! We’re starting again with Scene 12!” one of the crew members yell out before Liam has a chance to speak again. Without further words, Harry eats up the rest of the orange as he makes his way to the railing of the bridge a few paces away.

Simon, who’s flipping through the script beside the camera, calls Harry over as soon as he’s in the camera’s view. “Mister Styles!”

He makes sure the orange goes down his throat before answering. “Yes, Simon?”

“I’m aware that we’ve already done a number of takes and that we’ll probably only do a couple more before we wrap up the scene, but I’d really like to do something different with this scene.” He rolls up the script and tucks it under his arm, the wrinkles of his brow becoming a lot more defined in the outside lighting. “Now, tell me Harry, what is James’ initial reaction when he finds out that Vincent was the one who sent the e-mails to Ava?”

“Um, anger I’m guessing? Betrayal?”

Simon nods. “Both of those are great logical reactions, but,” he places a rough hand on top of Harry’s shoulder, “you have to remember that Vincent was James’ most trustworthy colleague. They were a team.”

Harry nods along with Simon’s explanation.

“Now tell me, if one of your friends did something to betray your trust, what would your reaction be?”

A familiar feeling that Harry once felt back on Nick’s show slowly burns within his chest, making his throat close up and dry. He blinks the feeling away. “I probably wouldn’t even believe it at first. I’d be in denial, maybe a bit disappointed as well.”

The older man gives Harry’s shoulder a little squeeze. “Denial! That’s a perfect emotion! Now I want you to try that out when Harrison over there,” he looks to where Ty Harrison (four-time Golden Globe nominee and three-time Emmy Award winner for his role in the television drama _Collusion of the Phoenix_ ) stands, giving him a short smile before turning back to Harry, “tells you about Vincent’s betrayal.”

“Alright,” he replies, giving Simon an approving smile. “Thanks Simon. I’ll definitely do that.”

Harry walks over to the railing once again once he sees Simon go back to his copy of the script, tugging at his sleeves to keep them from sticking to his arms. He’s almost made it to his desired position when a series of laughs hit his ears and catch his immediate attention.

A couple of paces behind the cameras stand Liam and none other than Louis “Pretty Eyes” Tomlinson. To Harry, it seems as if Liam’s laughing at something Louis just said, the sound of his laugh causing Louis to laugh along with him (because let’s face it: Liam’s laugh is absolutely _adorable_ ). Louis can’t even seem to powder Liam’s nose properly because of how much they’re laughing. Interesting.

For some reason this exchange between the two of them makes Harry’s eyebrows furrow negatively, the light atmosphere between them juxtaposing the awkward one that lingered when he and Louis first met yesterday back in Lou’s trailer. And he would go up to them to strike up a casual conversation and hope to erase the awkward start and begin anew. But he doesn’t. Harry stays where he is and watches them instead.

“Okay, everyone!” Simon announces, getting the needed cast and crew members into position. Harry moves so that he’s standing with Ty, but the echoes of laughter remain fresh in his mind. The crew member with the clapper board stands in front of the camera, hands holding the clapper upright until Simon says otherwise. “Quiet on set, please! This is Scene 12, take 9. Actors are all in places. And three, two, one… ACTION!!”

And two takes and a satisfied look from Simon later, Harry walks away from the cameras and approaches Liam. The scene had worked out perfectly due to Simon’s advice, the atmosphere Harry created in the two takes were on an entire different level than the takes with the previous tactics he used. One could say that Harry felt proud of himself.

“Hey,” he greets Liam, who’s scrolling through his phone screen without pause. “Are you still hunting for that wedding cake? Getting some progress done on that checklist?”

“Hey, H. And no, I’m not, although I should probably get on that before Sophia interrogates me about it.” He says all this without looking up from his phone. It’s not until Harry chuckles at his statement that his brown eyes shift from the screen to Harry’s face, hand colliding with Harry’s shoulder in a congratulatory pat. “But hey, great job out there! I really felt the emotion, the energy. Some of your best work yet.”

Harry smirks. “Thanks, mate. I appreciate that. I, uh,” he clears his throat and looks around the bridge, searching for the pretty pair of blue eyes that stood here not so long ago, “also saw that you met Lou’s new assistant.”

Liam subtly raises an eyebrow. “You mean Louis? Yeah. Met him yesterday, actually. Very nice guy. Incredibly funny as well.”

“Glad to hear it. He, uh, he told me that he’s a big fan of your work.”

“Really?” Liam looks pleasantly surprised at Harry’s words. “Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. I’ve been so busy lately, with work and the wedding and all that, that I haven’t had time to actually meet fans. But yeah, Louis’ a cool guy.”

Harry hums in response, not actually opening his mouth to speak. He still finds himself looking around for the main topic of their conversation, but to no avail. Louis is gone.

“I don’t know. He seemed a bit… off to me.”

And now Liam just looks confused. “Off? Off how?”

Harry shrugs and lowers his voice a bit for the sake of preventing anyone from eavesdropping. “When I met him, he was carrying these boxes full of supplies and I offered to help him with ‘em, but he seemed a bit guarded and declined the offer - which I thought was strange because I genuinely wanted to help him - and then every time I tried to start up a conversation he always found a way to end it. So, yeah, I felt that he was a bit off.”

“Maybe you scared him.”

“Scared him?” he repeats, eyebrow quirking up.

“Yeah, sometimes those huge dimples of yours look a bit menacing. You should probably tame them before they end up swallowing someone whole.”

Chuckling, Harry rubs his cheek with his palm and replies with, “I doubt my dimples threatened him. Most people think they’re cute.”

Pocketing his phone, Liam shifts his attention to the boy in front of him. “Well, it was his first day, Harry. People tend to feel a bit intimidated on their first days. Maybe he just needs to get more used to spending time with such ‘A-List celebrities’, as the media likes to call us.”

Scoffing, Harry rolls his eyes. “I doubt it. He acted all fine and dandy and chipper when it came to talking to you, but when I try to strike up a conversation all of a sudden he has trouble making eye contact? It doesn’t make sense.” He then mutters an additional, “he even called _you_ a cinematic genius.”

A laugh from Liam immediately sets Harry’s cheeks ablaze. “Oh okay, H. Now I see what’s going on.”

“What?”

“You’re either jealous that someone you’re infatuated with doesn’t like you back, or you’re jealous that someone may be a bigger fan of me than they are of you.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the mention of those two ideas. “Pfft. No I’m not.”

Liam shakes his head, a fond smile set firmly on his lips. “It’s okay, Haz. I understand. After all, I did snatch that Golden Globe away from you three years ago.”

“Okay. First, I am _not_ jealous,” he presses, shoulders tensing. “Second, the only reason why you won that Golden Globe in the first place was because I wasn’t nominated.”

“So then it’s the first option?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “I was not infatuated by him in any way whatsoever.”

“Whatever you say, Harry,” Liam responds with, crossing his arms and turning around to make his way onto the bus that would take them back to the main filming site. Rolling his eyes at Liam once again, Harry mutters a few more unintelligible words and follows Liam into the bus.

 

*****

 

It’s two weeks after they filmed at the bridge in downtown Vancouver, and the weather is slowly getting cooler as they travel into the weeks of mid-September. It’s safe to say that Louis and Harry’s friendship still hasn’t developed the way Harry had imagined it would. But they still talk, and it’s slowly improving, so it's _something_.

Harry had gotten shamelessly drunk the night before, and he’s sporting a massive headache as he stands in Lou’s trailer. And if anything, it’s the pitch of Louis’ voice that makes his head pound harder and faster.

The door shuts behind the two of them. “Harry, why are you late?”

Raising an eyebrow, Harry checks the clock that hangs on the opposite wall. His vision may be a bit blurry, but he can still make out the numbers printed on it. He slowly makes his way to his chair and sits, trying not to stumble in his slightly drunken state. “I’m not late. This is the time I usually get here.”

“I told you yesterday to get here earlier since Louise was going out to do errands and shit.” Louis’ voice is fast-paced and urgent as he reaches for a hair brush, sort of reminding Harry of the morning Lou told him about Hailee leaving the production.

The rushed sharp tugs the brush makes in the curls of Harry’s hair wake him up a bit, adding to the throbbing pain in his head. “Ow! Would you relax? We have plenty of time before we’re due for filming, so stop worrying.”

“You know, getting something as delicate as makeup done in a specific time period is a lot easier with two people. Why do you think Louise needed a fucking assistant in the first place?”

“My my, you’ve got quite the potty mouth today, Tomlinson,” Harry comments, smirking to himself as the boy behind him lets out a small groan of annoyance. “I love it, it makes you even more attractive.”

Louis tugs harshly at Harry’s hair one more time, but Harry chooses not to say anything on the action. “Please stop talking so I can concentrate.”

Harry huffs. He’s so sure Louis wouldn’t mind hearing Liam talk if it was him sitting in the chair instead of Harry. But whatever. “Fine. Whatever you want, _princess_.”

He ignores the squinty look Louis gives him after that comment.

And so that’s how they spend the next half an hour, with Harry biting his tongue every few minutes as he pushes away the temptation to comment on the way Louis bites his bottom lip when he’s concentrating on blending all of the basic makeup on the pink spots of Harry’s face or the way his warm breath hits Harry’s neck as he styles Harry’s hair into a short, low ponytail. He’s trying so hard not to say anything as Louis’ nimble fingers tickle his skin as they move along his forearm and upper arm and he airbrushes every single one of his tattoos away.

By the time the thirty minutes are up, the tattoos on Harry’s left arm are completely gone and there’s only one tattoo on his right arm left to airbrush away before he’s finished with hair and makeup for the first part of the day. Louis is just about to resume painting Harry’s skin and finish up his last tattoo when there’s a lazy knock on the trailer door.

“Shit,” Louis mutters, setting down the small machine on the counter in front of Harry. He opens the door to a half-asleep Liam, who yawns as he steps into the trailer.

“Morning,” he says, scratching his head.

“Morning, Liam.” Louis goes back to Harry, resuming his work.

“Is Lou in this morning?”

“If you’re referring to Louise, no she’s not. She went off to go pick up some more materials, but she’ll be back soon. If you’re referring to me, then you’re dumber than I thought, Payno.”

Liam huffs out a laugh, walking towards the small bathroom at the back of the trailer. “Morning, H.”

“Good morning Liam.” The feeling of the spray hitting his skin delivers tiny goosebumps along Harry’s forearm.

“I’m just gonna go wash up.” He bumps into a stool, nearly falling over. He lets out a quiet groan. “Sorry.”

Louis laughs. “Still half-asleep, I reckon?”

“Yep.”

The sound of the water running can be heard from where Louis and Harry are. It’s brief, and as soon as Liam is done using the sink, Louis says he’s finished.

“Alright, Styles. We’re finished. You can go now.”

“Awesome,” Harry says, getting up from his chair. His arms are completely ink free. He doesn’t know how Louis is able to airbrush his tattoos so skillfully and perfectly, but he’s done it yet again. “I told you, you had nothing to worry about.”

“Whatever,” Louis mutters in response, briefly giving Harry an awkward smile before he turns away.

Harry’s too busy admiring Louis’ work on his arms that he almost doesn’t notice the boy walking to the station beside his and picking up a small red towel that’s hanging from the chair. He then picks up a small bottle of liquid and sprays it on the cloth of the towel, the colour of the liquid almost the exact same as the colour of the towel. There’s a smirk on Louis’ face, just screaming with mischief.

“Louis? What’re you doing?”

“Hmm?” Louis’ eyes snap to Harry’s, the blue striking him powerfully once again. “Oh! Nothing. You’re allowed to go now, you know.”

But he doesn’t. Instead he stays put and raises an eyebrow at Louis’ suspicious behaviour. When Louis sees that Harry isn’t going to do as he asked and Liam’s footsteps are being heard once again, Louis lets out a breath and the smirk falls from his face.

“Hey Lou, there aren’t any towels in the bathroom,” Liam says when he gets back. The lower part of his face is wet and based on the way he’s shivering, the sink water seemed to be very cold. But Liam looks entirely awake now and ready for another day of work, which is always a good thing.

“Oh. Sorry about that. Here,” he passes him the towel in his hand, “you can use this.”

Liam mutters a thank you before rubbing his face with the towel. Harry feels his eyes widen as he watches Liam stain his face with the red liquid on the towel. And when Liam’s finished and sets the towel down on a nearby stool, Harry’s jaw drops and he almost bursts into a fit of laughter right there and then.

Because Liam’s beard was now painted a dark red, reminding Harry of something that would grow in a forest or something.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

While Liam remains completely oblivious to what’s going on at the moment, Louis is trying so hard to bite back his laughter. His eyes are crinkling up by the sides and his teeth are turning his bottom lip white. He even has to bring a hand up and cover his mouth before he gives anything away. Harry can’t help but bid him a small smile, he looks absolutely adorable like this.

“What’s wrong, H?”

Harry’s eyes move to Liam’s face, and they immediately go to his coloured beard. He shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing.”

There’s a soft snort that comes from Louis in response to Harry’s answer, yet Liam doesn’t seem to hear it. Louis manages to lead Liam to his chair without raising any suspicion from him and Harry still doesn’t know _how_ Liam still hasn’t noticed the small alteration that’s been made to his face.

When Liam settles down in his chair and looks in the mirror, the sight and realization comes to him. His hands go directly to his face, fingers dipping into the hairs of his beard and coming out stained with the red dye as well. Both Louis and Harry burst into laughter then.

“Wha - What happened?!”

“You look absolutely ridiculous!” Louis exclaims, voice coming out incredibly breathy due to his uncontrollable laughter.

“Liam you -” Harry can’t even finish his sentence, as his cackles overpower his words easily.

It takes almost a minute for the two of them to fully settle down. Their stomachs ached from the force of their chortles and eyes leaked amused tears. It was one of those moments to say the least. When they finally calm down Louis and Harry meet Liam’s face, expecting to find an angry Liam with face tinted in the same shade of red as his beard. Surprisingly, they come to find that Liam is laughing along with the practical joke.

Before anyone can say any further, the door to the trailer opens.

“Louis I managed to get the - oh dear.”

Lou Teasdale stares at the trio with wide eyes, the box she’s carrying in her arms almost falling to the floor as she takes in the view.

“Liam, sweetheart,” she starts, voice slow and cautious as her eyes roam around Liam’s face, “don’t panic! But, uh, it looks like you have red moss growing all over your face.”

Louis laughs even harder at that and Harry snorts. “That’s his beard actually,” Harry says, trying to relax his face, “and I think he’s aware of that.”

“Right. Well,” she sets down the box on top of the chair that Liam had previously been sitting in, “um, would anyone mind telling me what exactly happened here then?”

“Oh! Um,” Liam looks to Louis for any sort of indication on what to say, but only receives a mischievous smirk and a shrug of his shoulders, “you see Lou, the other Lou,” he gestures to Louis, “he, uh, uh--”

“Uh huh.” Lou flashes a distasteful look to her assistant, who at the moment is looking around the room as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. She picks up the bottle of dye from the counter and studies the labels on it. “Good thing you’re not due on set ‘til eleven then. The dye isn’t permanent either, so we can wash all that out quickly.”

She nods towards the bathroom and leads Liam towards it. As they disappear into the room, Harry takes a few steps closer to Louis and lets out a couple of short laughs.

“Louis, that was fucking hilarious!” Harry says, hand coming to rest on Louis’ shoulder. “I think that was the hardest I’ve laughed in like a year or so.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

Harry squeezes his shoulder gently before speaking again. “Honestly though, you need to do something like that again. Oh! We could pull a prank together! I know plenty of people on set that people would kill to see get pranked like that.”

He’s speaking so fast that he doesn’t even realize that Louis has tensed up under his touch and is slowly moving away from him. “Oh. Thank you but no thank you. Pranking isn’t even a hobby of mine, I literally just improvised that.”

The smile on Harry’s face drops a bit and transforms into a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t pull a little mischief together.” His fingernail slides along the edge of Louis’ shoulder. “If you knew me, you’d know that I _love_ mischief.”

“Of course you do.” Louis takes a deep breath and takes a step away from Harry, dismissing the obvious flirtation. Before Harry can conjure up any other words, Louis looks at his watchless wrist and brings an end to the conversation by saying: “But I’ll still pass on the offer. And I still think you should go now. You’re supposed to start filming in like fifteen minutes and Simon wouldn’t like it if you showed up to work late.”

Trying to swallow away the last few remaining laughs in throat, Harry nods at Louis’ words and separates his hand from Louis’ shoulder. Suddenly, any sort of interest he had in the man had turned to dust and transformed into confusion instead. He can’t come to any kind of conclusion as to why Louis just turned him down like that.

No one has ever turned down Harry Styles like that before.

 

*****

 

Louis' menacing ways in the workplace don't really seem to come to an end as the filming process continues. Not that they would be seen as completely problematic, though. Harry has come to realize that Louis is anything _but_ problematic.

But it all comes down to the following: the more Louis jokes around with the rest of the cast members, the more Harry wants to isolate himself from him and everyone else involved in these little jokes. In an emotional way, of course. However, it's not because of jealousy or anything of that matter. It's because of the unnatural awkwardness between him and Louis.

There's this spark that ignites between Louis and everyone else working on this film. Everyone absolutely _adores_ this man, no matter how many ridiculous pranks he pulls on set. He has this way of making the surrounding atmosphere so light and endearing, of creating a good mood for everybody. Harry sees this on set everyday; with Liam, Louise, and even Simon for crying out loud!

But with Harry everything takes a huge step backwards.

It's not like how it is with Liam or Louise. He doesn't know why, he doesn't know if he said anything offensive to the lad besides that horrific flirting attempt from earlier. But even then, the easy atmosphere that Louis brings with his presence suddenly thickens when he's around Harry. And whether they're actually talking or not doesn't actually make a difference. Despite the subtlety of it, the air is awkward and heavy between the two no matter what.

And even now, as Louis airbrushes the tattoos on Harry's arms away, he feels it. It's really hard not to feel it.

"You know you're really good at that?" he asks, trying to create conversation.

Louis pauses, looking up at Harry briefly. "Good at what?"

"At that," he repeats, nudging his head towards his arm and the kit.

"Thanks," is what Louis replies with. He doesn't say anything more after that until a few moments later. "You have a lot of tattoos, you know."

Harry chuckles. "Yeah, I know."

"Are you thinking of getting a sleeve soon? Like, on your left arm? I was just asking since, you know, you already have like a shitload of them on the one arm."

"Uh, no actually. I wasn't actually planning on it."

"Oh, I see."

And cue the awkward silence.

Harry clears his throat, putting on his best smirk. "You know, you've been getting up close and personal with my tattoos lately."

"I have?" he asks, voice thick with sarcasm. "Wow, I had _no_ idea!"

"Yes you have. Which leads me to my next question: which one's your favourite?"

Louis looks up, brows furrowed. "What?"

"Which one of my tattoos is your favourite?"

"Did you really just ask me that, Harry?"

"I did, now answer the question."

He can see Louis rolling his eyes from the corner of his own. "Alright, well, my favourite would have to be the," he pauses, pursing his lips as he stares at Harry's arm, "the two hands on the back of your arm.”

Harry furrows his brows, the answer hitting him harder than it should have. “Really? That's quite the unusual choice. Most fans say that it’s the rose or the anchor.”

“I guess I’m different, then,” Louis says, a small smile appearing on his face.

“You are,” Harry agrees, and he means it. “You definitely are.”

The nice, short moment is then interrupted by Lou’s entrance. The suddenness of it all causes Harry to jump in his seat, and Louis’ grasp on his arm tightens just the slightest. Harry feels the warmth seep into his bones, and he doesn't dislike the way it makes him feel. He actually really doesn’t dislike it.

“Alright, children. I’m back!” Louise says, grabbing her wheeled chair from the corner of the room. “Tomlinson, you can start on Harry’s foundation while I finish the airbrushing, is that okay?”

“Absolutely,” he says, standing up from his stool. He hands the kit to Louise and they switch places, although Harry can barely notice the action as his mind is too focused on how fast the warmth of Louis’ hand leaves Harry’s arm. It’s really strange, him thinking about such a thing.

“Is everything alright, Harry?” Teasdale asks, bringing Harry back from the depths of his thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Everything's fine! It just occurred to me, though: if you guys were to ever work together and start a business or something you could name it _Lou & Lou _ ,” he gestures to the two people in the room dramatically, staring into space as he does so, “or _Lou Squared_ , if you'd like.”

It takes a few seconds, but soon enough Louise bursts into a fit of laughter in response to Harry’s statement. Tomlinson just stares, raising an eyebrow and saying: “What the fuck?”

Teasdale, however, has a different response. “Oh Harry,” she says after calming down, “you really are a gem.”

She moves to sit down on her chair, only to jump up in surprise as soon as a loud _honk!_ makes its way into the room. She yelps, only to cover up the surprising noise with more laughter. Louis laughs as well, pointing to the bottom of the chair where a small air horn is attached.

“Louis, you're absolutely awful!” Teasdale tells him, half-laughing and half-pouting.

“At least it wasn't a whoopee cushion,” Harry comments, chuckling along to the prank. “That would have made it worse from how tacky it would've been.”

“I think it's safe to say that I am the king of practical jokes,” Louis says. “Sorry about scaring you though, Louise. You know I love you.”

Harry laughs at Teasdale’s final reply to the conversation. “Yeah yeah. Just go get the foundation before I strangle you.”

 

 **********III**

 

Niall's laugh is loud enough to cut through the loud music of the club. Even in Canada, the intensity that these type of locations bring never seem to cease. He and Harry down another shot of alcohol, the strong liquid burning both their throats as they swallow. Harry's second month of filming _Greed and Lullabies_ is almost finished, leaving him with a month left before everything wraps up.

"Are you okay H?" Niall asks, or at least Harry thinks he asks. The amount of noise in the club is almost deafening.

"Fine," Harry replies. He asks the bartender for another shot, not sure of which drink, because his vision is fucked up now from the effects of the alcohol. He's basically just picking random drinks as the night ticks by. Not that he minds, of course. "Just glad I get to spend some time with my _best friend_."

The blonde boy laughs again, pulling Harry's arms away from his body. He hadn't even realized that he was holding Niall. Or at least attempting to hold him.

“You are so fucking drunk, Styles.”

“I know,” he says, smiling widely at the Irishman. He manages to push whatever thoughts that haunt his head past him, letting the warm liquid he just had take over his brain instead. “I love it.”  
  
An hour or so passes, with Niall and Harry getting lost in the ocean of people that dance throughout the nightclub. The music is _loud_ , almost numbing Harry’s ears if that were possible. But he dances regardless, letting the thrill of the sounds transport him to a different world. The two boys dance with whoever they stumble across. Harry drinks. Niall makes out with a few people. And how they haven’t gotten recognized by anyone yet is beyond their understanding, but judging by their surroundings it’s not like anyone will remember any of this by the time the sun rises. Not even Harry.

By the time the sun does rise, Harry’s wakes up realizing he’s not in the club anymore. A yellow light hits him straight in the eye, and if it weren’t for his sharp instincts, he probably would’ve been blinded by now. He rubs his face as he sits up from the carpeted floor, letting his eyes adjust to the change in atmosphere. It takes him a few seconds to notice the familiar blonde head of hair that sticks out from the end of the couch located beside Harry, soft snores coming from Niall as he remains in his slumber.

Harry groans and stands up, his legs immediately failing on his determined attempt. Feeling a bit nauseous from the previous night (which is something Harry hasn’t felt in a very long time), Harry heads straight towards a small waste basket that’s pressed against the nearest wall, emptying all the contents of his stomach into it.

A small patter of footsteps is heard from across the room, but Harry doesn’t make the effort to look up from the trash can until he hears an “Oh!”.

And of course.

Louis Tomlinson stands right in front of him.

“Nice to see that you slept well.”

Even though Harry’s still pretty much out of it, he knows that he’s frowning at Louis. Because _what the fuck_ ? Why is he in the same room as Louis despite the fact that the last time he was aware of anything he was at a fucking nightclub. With _Niall_.

“What the fuck?”

“Although I must admit: I didn’t expect you to sleep as long as you did without Mr. Dandy to keep you company.”

Harry rolls his eyes, blinking away the horrid smell of vomit that's starting to fill the air. “Shut up.”

Louis only laughs at that. He walks up to Harry as the curly haired boy slowly stands, holding out a cup towards him. “I made you some tea. It's supposed to help with headaches.”

He takes the warm cup of tea from him hesitantly, eyeing Louis to check for any subtle suspicious activity. He really doesn't want to experience something similar to what Liam experienced before. Like the whole ‘incident’ with the red beard? No thank you. “Um, thanks I guess?”

“Oh calm down, Styles. I didn't poison it or anything. Just drink it. It's fine.”

“Alright,” Harry mutters as his reply before he takes a sip from his tea. "So, uh, why exactly are you here at this time of day?"

Louis crosses his arms. "I slept over last night. Liam called me, said you guys were a bit chaotic. So I came over and helped him out."

"Oh."

It's at this moment that he really takes in his surroundings. He's in Liam’s trailer, he's sure about that. Same type of couches, same mysterious blue stain on the carpet, same paintings on the walls. Everything about the place is familiar to Harry.

That is, everything except for the fact that Louis’ standing in front of him wearing _only_ a pair of sweatpants, with no shirt or any type material to cover his tattooed torso.

And _fuck_.

_Fuck._

Harry’s so sure his eyes are bugging out of his head at the mere sight of Louis’ precious collarbones. The way his skin glows in the faint rays of light that trickle in from the window behind them. The way his tattoos blend in with his tan skin, truly making them appear like a part of him. Everything about what Harry is seeing right now is beautiful and shit, Harry feels like a total creep at the moment.

“Is something wrong, Harry?” The abruptness of Louis’ question makes the hot tea travel down the wrong pipe of Harry’s throat. He coughs up the tea, Louis stepping back with slight disgust as soon as the liquid hits the ground in front of his naked feet.

“I-I’m fine! Fine!”

Shit. If Louis saw him ogling at his body Harry would _die_. He’d go back to his trailer, crawl under his bed and just rot underneath it. Yep, just rot.

Harry clears his throat, mostly to rid his throat of any remaining tea, but also to recollect himself and transfer his thoughts somewhere else. “And just so you know, I can sleep without Mr. Dandy just fine. I don’t know why Liam told you about him, though. I’ll probably end up strangling him in his sleep later, you know?”

Louis huffs out a breath, very similar to a slight chuckle. “Who? Liam, or the stuffed lion?”

Harry smirks. “Liam, obviously. I would never do that to a stuffed animal. They’re beautiful creatures, you know. They deserve all the love.”

Louis actually openly laughs at that. “Good to know that you care so much for them. You’re saving the world, Harry, one stuffed animal at a time.”

Laughing, Harry takes another sip of his tea and tries not to choke on it with his giggles. Louis’ eyes are so blue in the current lighting. And Harry doesn’t know why, but there’s something about them that mesmerize him. It’s difficult to explain.

“You’re really funny, by the way.”

An uncontrollable deep blush begins to taint Louis’ cheeks. “What? Oh, um, than--”

“And the tea you made is excellent. You need to give me the recipe for this.” He mentally curses at himself because really Harry? Did you really just say that? “You can write it down for me,” he suggests. “Or text me the recipe, if you’d like.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, already predicting the outcome of this situation. “Right. I would do that, but I don’t think I have your phone number.”

“Oh! You’re right!” He takes out his phone from his pocket, handing it over to Louis. “We can exchange our numbers right now!”

Alright. Good. Everything’s going smooth so far. Perfect.

With a visible smile that’s threatening to take over Louis’ face, he does as Harry asks. He creates a new contact under his name, and Harry reminds himself to change Louis’ name on his phone to “Pretty Eyes”. It won’t be difficult for Harry to know who that person is if the name were ever to pop up.

“There,” Louis announces, handing Harry’s phone back to him. “You know, you have like no contacts on your phone.”

“Yeah I know. The only people I have on here are Liam and Niall. Oh, and my manager James. But besides that, that’s pretty much it.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Louis comments, “with you being such a _celebrity_ and all.”

Harry feels his smile waver with Louis’ statement, suddenly feeling quite uneasy. “Yeah, I guess.”

Loud thuds are suddenly heard coming from the small bedroom on the other side of the trailer, bringing an end to Louis and Harry’s conversation. Before long, a recently awakened Liam appears. His hair is sticking up in different places and there’s a few drops of drool on the side of his cheek. The situation is very familiar to Harry, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it exactly.

“Morning,” says Liam, rubbing his cheek with his hand.

“Morning,” the two other boys reply, their voices equally as monotonous.

“Shit, Niall’s completely passed out on the couch.” Liam pokes Niall in the back with his toe. Niall doesn’t move; he doesn’t even flinch. “Looks like you guys had a great night.”

“As much as I’d like to agree with you, Liam, my night wasn’t that good. I couldn’t really enjoy myself, if I’m honest.” Harry pauses for a second. Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. Now Liam’s going to go all papa bear on him. He sighs. “Niall had a fantastic night though.”

“Why didn’t you have fun, H?” Liam frowns, his papa bear face starting to form.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just didn’t.”

“He was too busy moping about weird emotional shit,” Niall’s muffled voice then fills the room. The three boys then turn to look at the Irishman, and they all begin to wonder how the fuck Niall is even speaking right now with his face pushed up against the floor. “Internally moping, to be more exact.”

“I was _not_ moping!” Harry exclaims. “I was drunk, there’s a clear difference.”

Niall groans and turns, rolling his body around so that he was now laying on his back. Harry mentally asks him if his head is also in a completely hungover frenzy. A sudden realization pops into Harry’s mind.

“Were you awake the whole time we were talking, Ni?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and he lifts his hand. “Louis, is it? Niall Horan, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you Niall,” Louis says, reaching over to shake the guitarist’s hand. “I’m a big fan.”

“Damn right you are.” Harry snorts at the comment. “Three triple platinum records, two - now three, actually - huge world tours, and over ten million followers on Instagram and Twitter. Fuck yeah, you’re a fan.”

To Harry’s surprise, Louis smirks at Niall and says. “Wow. You’re a really confident lad, aren’t you?”

“Yeah why?”

“Nothing. I like that. We’re going to get along just fine, Niall.”

 

*****

 

"Okay, but in what world is _Silver Lining_ better than _Leather in the Breeze_?"

"In _every world_ , Liam! That song is pure genius," says Louis.

"Maybe, but _Tales of an Unrul_ \--"

"Yes, Liam! We get it! _Tales of an Unruly Paralegal_ is Trash Magic's best song! We get it!" Harry's interruption is only one of the many voices that are involved in this little argument.

"Don't whine H, you know it's true."

"Lads, can't we just all agree that every song I've written is golden? It'll save you guys the stress and all the arguing."

"Shut the fuck up, Niall," Harry says, downing his fourth shot of alcohol. "While that may only be partially true, this argument will not end until everyone in this room agrees that _Beauty Behind the Madness_ deserved that Grammy!"

"Harry, that's an album by The Weeknd, not Trash Magic," Louis deadpans, only on his second shot at this point.

"I know." He's drunk, but he's not stupid.

He’s not stupid, but he is surprised with how Louis has been welcomed into their little group of friendship over the past few weeks. Honestly, it seems like he fits right in along with the trio of friends. And it should be enough, just being friends with Louis. But there’s still something about this boy that makes Harry want to dig in deeper. Makes him want to know more.

Louis rolls his eyes in response. "I'll only agree with you if you agree that _Creeps on the Corner of the Street_ deserved the 2014 Grammy for Best Album."

"Ugh, fuck yeah I'd agree to that." He raises his shot glass, despite it being empty. "To Trash Magic! They deserve all the Grammys!"

Both Liam and Louis then raise their own glasses, repeating Harry's words shortly before taking another shot.

"God, I wish I could fucking drink with you guys! Fuckin' Travis won't fucking let me fucking drink on the fucking tour bus." For a second the Skype call fails, causing Niall's grainy face to pause in an unaesthetic manner. Harry almost chokes on his drink while Louis and Liam try not to laugh.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever heard the word 'fucking' be used so many times in a sentence," Louis comments, causing both Harry and Liam to let out a few seconds of laughter.

"You'll get used to it," replies Liam. "And with Niall, you'll get used to it _very quickly_ , believe me."

"He even uses words that I don't know the meaning of." Harry furrows his eyebrow after his own comment. "At least I think he does. His accent is so weird I don't even know what he's saying three quarters of the time."

"You know I can still hear you, right? Just because the screen is paused doesn't mean I can no longer hear you!"

"Woah, I didn't even hear a single swear word in those two sentences," Harry whispers to Louis, his vision shortly going blurry due to the effects of the alcohol. He blinks to gain back his vision and then continues. That's a huge achievement for him."

"Fuck you, Styles!"

Louis then laughs, the sound melodious in Harry's ears. He wouldn't mind hearing that sound forever if he had the chance.

All of a sudden, Liam groans and hits his head against Harry's sofa, taking Harry away from the harmonies of Louis' laughter. "What the hell's up with you?"

"I just remembered that I need to wake up early tomorrow," he answers, eyes shut tightly in frustration.

"Why? Tomorrow's Saturday?" Harry asks.

"Because the producers ended up rescheduling a scene so tomorrow we're going to the beach in order to film."

"Ha! Glad I'm not in any of the beach scenes then."

"Oh yeah!" Louis joins in. "Louise told me she was going to the beach tomorrow along with three other makeup artists but my work wasn't needed over there so I also get the day off tomorrow, which is fucking fantastic."

Another groan from Liam. "Ugh, but I'm already sleep deprived as it is, with the wedding and all. Saturdays are my resting days! They help me survive!"

"You still have some time, mate," says Niall. He checks the time on his phone. "It's only... 1:24 a.m."

"Fuck!" Liam yells, standing up from his spot on the ground. He stumbles a bit, probably from taking one too many shots. "Simon's gonna kill me tomorrow!"

"Yeah yeah," Harry says, scratching the back of his neck. "Bye Li, if you're not back by midnight tomorrow I'll tell Sophia you were in a tragic accident of death by Cowell."

"Alright." Liam rolls his eyes playfully, already halfway out the door. See you later guys!"

"Bye Payno!"

"Bye mate!"

As soon as the door closes, they down a few more drinks. Or, should I say, _Harry_ downs a few more drinks. He's completely and absolutely shattered by the time Louis grimaces in his seat and yells: "Fuck! I have to piss."

"You better go then," Harry smiles, filling up his glass once again. "I don't wanna have to clean up any stains tomorrow!"

Louis leaves the room, entering the small bathroom right away and leaving Harry alone with Niall's face on his laptop.

"Harry."

"Yes Niall?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Harry smiles to himself, already prepping for whatever ridiculous thing Niall is going to say. "Sure."

"Do you, uh, like Louis? Like, I mean, do you _like_ him?"

He can feel the smile on his face drop as he listens to Niall’s words. And so he clears his throat and smiles again, this time wider and less genuine. “What? What do you mean by that? Me and Louis? No! No way!”

In all honesty, he hadn't really thought of him _liking_ Louis like that. I mean sure, he's been attracted to him since the beginning. But that's what usually happens with Harry. It's nothing special. However, he does like his smile and his laugh. And he has really soft hands. He smells really nice too. And he has really pretty eyes, like _really_ prett--

Oh fuck.

Before Harry can deny his feelings once again and question Niall further, Louis walks back into the room. He sits beside Harry, taking the computer and placing it on his lap. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope!” Harry says, bit too quickly to be entirely convincing.

“I was actually just about to leave,” the blonde one says. He yawns, and it doesn't take Harry a lot to figure out that he's doing it on purpose. “We have a show tomorrow and I really don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of a crowd surfing session.”

Louis chuckles. “Alright Ireland, have a good night.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“Night, Horan,” Harry says, playing with his glass.

“Night Styles! I love you more than bread you know!”

“And I love you more than alcohol.”

When the picture of Niall’s face is no longer on the screen of his computer, Louis puts the computer away and it finally settles in Harry's mind what Niall has done. He left so that he's alone with Louis. It's the middle of the night and he's really alone with Louis. _Alone._

Fuck you, Niall.

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you please get your head off my shoulder? Your chin is really fucking bony.”

Whoops. He hadn't even realized what he was doing. Harry must be more drunk than he originally thought. “Oh. Sorry.”

A couple more shots and a few silent moments pass, the smell that emits from Louis’ body reaching Harry’s nose. He smells very nice, Harry thinks. Like coconut. Or maybe watermelon.

Harry likes watermelon.

“You smell good,” Harry mutters, words escaping him before his brain even had the chance to process them.

“Um, thank you?” Louis doesn’t say any further, and the lack of dialogue is almost relieving for Harry until him and his drunken mind decides to break it.

“I like this.” But Louis doesn’t remove his eyes from the television screen in front of them, where a 2008 episode of _Supernatural_ is playing, ignoring Harry’s comment completely. Harry, however, remains unbothered by the action and continues. “It’s very nice.”

“Like what?” Louis asks, blue eyes glimmering in the dim room. In Harry’s mind, it’s these eyes that illuminate everything around him. It’s as if the blue reflects the sky. They’re beautiful, despite the fact that they’re not looking back at him.

“I like,” he pauses, “sitting here. With you.”

Louis huffs out a breath and a brief laugh, finally turning to take a short look at Harry. “Did you really just say that? That you like sitting here with me? You’re being ridiculous, Haz.”

Harry nods, smiling at the nickname. “Yeah. And I like the fact that it’s quiet. Like, _peacefully_ quiet between us. And that you haven't, you know, painted my dick green yet or anything.”

“Don’t be deceived, Styles,” Louis says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m mentally plotting my most humiliating prank against you as we speak.”

Harry laughs, unable to detect the lack of sarcasm in Louis’ voice. “I love when you joke around like that.”

“Yeah yeah, okay,” Louis says, standing up from the floor. He takes hold of Harry’s arms and guides him up. “I love talking to you but you’re drunk, Styles. Go to sleep.”

Harry stumbles a bit once he's on his feet, but his hands never separate from Louis’. He pouts. “But the fun was only just starting. You barely drank anything the entire night!”

“I don't need to drink a lot to have a good time. People can have fun without having to get completely shitfaced, you know.”

“Maybe where you come from. Where I’m from, getting trashed is the norm.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “We're both British, you idiot. You just happened to be raised in LA instead of England.”

They're in Harry’s room now, and despite how big his role in the movie is, it appears to be only a little bit bigger than Louis’ own. But only a little.

Harry falls back on his bed, the force in which he falls with making him bounce up a bit against the mattress. Louis only kneels in front of him, taking Harry's boots off his feet. “I don’t like it when you call me an idiot.”

“Really? I think it suits you, if I’m being honest.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets Louis tenderly push him back on the bed. His head hits the pillow that lies there, engulfing itself in its softness instantly. Harry’s eyes suddenly soften, and the pulsing in his head diminishes. At first he thinks it’s because he’s absolutely exhausted and he’s finally finding relief, but then, like a boulder falling from a cliff with fantastic force, he realizes that it’s because he’s staring right into the blue of Louis’ eyes.

And there’s a look in his eyes. Harry can’t tell exactly what it means. He just knows that he likes staring at Louis.

“You’re pretty.” Louis huffs out a short breath. He doesn’t reply and remains silent, the blue of his eyes continuously cutting into the green of Harry’s. Harry’s drunken mouth acts before his brain can, and so he resumes. “Like, very _very_ pretty.”

The comment must have taken Louis by surprise, because he smiles, and Harry swears he sees the stars.

“Thanks Harry. I don’t think anyone has ever called me ‘pretty’ before.”

“That’s such a shame, because lying is a sin.” At that, Louis laughs, small crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. “You know if I weren’t so drunk I’d probably try to steal a kiss from you right now.”

Once Harry's words are taken in, Louis stops. “Really? And why is that?”

“Because I think you're pretty, silly. And smart. And funny.” Harry can see the slightest blush take over Louis’ cheeks. “Your entire personality is worthy of a kiss.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you tell your usual hook-ups Harry?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. Those hook-ups, they don't mean anything. I fuck them because I’m in the mood to fuck, and they fuck me because I’m who I am. Because I’m famous and all.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. And you, Louis, you're different."

"How am I different, Haz? How?"

"Because you don't buy into the fame," he explains. "You don't care whether I'm famous or not. You just wanna have fun and make friends. So yeah, you're different. And I like that."

Louis lets out a huff of breath, and Harry's not sure whether he agrees with him or not. He can't really tell. “Why do you drink so much, Harry?”

He frowns, taken aback by the question. “Huh?”

“Why do you drink so much?”

He doesn't mind the change of topic. He'd rather talk about something else than risk the feeling of rejection. “I actually don't drink that often, but when I do it's because I think too much and I hate it. I hate it when I think too much.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. I just do.”

“You have beautiful mind Harry. You shouldn't let it go to waste.”

"How do you know that? How do you know anything about my mind? Or about me in general?"

Louis shrugs. "It's not that hard to tell. You're a great person, Harry. The only problem is that you hide behind your fame, so all that people actually see is the person the industry built for them. So what they see isn't the real you, it's what an industry created instead."

"Is that why you were so awkward with me at first? Why you were so neutral? Because you didn't buy that the person talking to you was the real me?" That's a fucking ridiculous reason, he thinks.

"No. I was so awkward with you at first because I _did_ buy it. You're like one of the most famous celebrities of our generation, Haz! There's bloody _thousands_ of articles written about you. I know I've always said don't believe everything you read, but it's kind of hard not to when there's a lot being written about a person. And so I found you intimidating, if anything."

"Sometimes I don't even _feel_ like a person!" Harry blurts out, but he doesn't take the words back. He doesn't even try. "Sometimes I feel like I don't even know who Harry Styles is. My family's in London, they barely call me anymore because I'm either busy filming or they're too busy working, Liam and Niall are my only friends and I barely see them enough as it is."

Sometimes it feels like acting is all Harry has anymore. Even though Harry has no one to come home to anymore, no one to lay down in his bed with and tell them about his day or how he’s feeling in general, no one to comfort him or console him on his bad days and no one to make him laugh even harder on his good ones. Even if he has none of that, he still has his job. He still has acting.

He can still pretend.

"It's okay, Haz," Louis says, hands coming to rest on the side of Harry's cheeks. As his thumbs begin to wipe Harry's tears, it is just now that he realizes that he had been crying. "Shh, it's okay."

Louis' warmth then engulfs Harry's body, setting every part and every particle of his skin ablaze. It's strange, really. How Harry's hated his thoughts and his emotions for so long, how long he's lived off of the numbness of his brain. And then Louis comes along and makes him feel something. He doesn't know what he feels exactly, but all Harry knows is that he wants more. He loves it.

And then when Harry’s head is resting against his pillow once again and his eyes are finally closed, Louis opens his mouth.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” In the darkness, Harry can feel as Louis’ fingers take hold of one of his fallen curls. He can feel the strand of hair moving, and he’s so sure Louis’ twirling it around his finger. He likes the feeling. “It’s such a shame how someone who used to be so pure and wonderful could just burn to the ground so easily.”

All Harry hears as his brain shuts down is the softness of Louis’ voice wishing him a good night, and then the most delicate touch of lips against his cheekbone.

 

*****

 

Rays of sunlight that beam through the trailer windows manage to wake Harry up the next morning. His eyes still ache with the desire for more sleep, his head lightly pulsing with the remnants of his headache. He’s still wearing the clothes from the night before. But they’re all wrinkled now, and the tightness of his jeans makes Harry uncomfortable.

Ugh.

He needs a shower.

But there’s something about the morning that’s distinct in Harry’s mind. Like there’s something different with Harry now. Something that as he looks around the newly brightened room he comes to realize. Maybe it’s the fact that most of the things he had said and expressed the night before he’s able to remember.

Which is cool, because that’s never actually happened before. (Or maybe it has. Harry can’t really remember.)

But maybe it’s the fact that Louis Tomlinson is laying on the bed right beside Harry, and he looks prettier than he’s ever looked before. And it’s as if Harry’s seeing him for the first time. Seeing him differently. And even if he can't explain it properly, he still likes it. A lot.

His lips form a tiny smile.

He likes him. He likes _Louis_.

Wait a minute.

Harry blinks a few times, trying to properly clear his vision from the fogginess of sleep. And yep. There lies Louis next to him, appearing as if he was put in an eternal slumber, eyes closed and face innocent. Harry clears his throat in the midst of his confusion before shaking Louis awake with a hand on his shoulder.

Louis groans, swatting at Harry’s hand with his own. He buries his head further into the pillow as he attempts to sleep again.

“Louis,” Harry says, low voice rumbling. “Louis wake up.”

After a few more shakes Louis finally sits up, eyes squinting with tiredness. His brown hair is all over the place and there’s a thin line of drool on the side of his chin. “What? What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Harry replies. More words escape Louis’ mouth in mumbles, although they’re completely incomprehensible. “I, uh, nothing… You fell asleep. On my bed. And… yeah.”

Looking around the room, it’s as if Louis has just now noticed where he is. “Oh.”

Sudden panic arises in Harry. “We didn’t… uh… we didn’t _do_ anything last night, right?”

Louis’ eyes widen at the words. “Oh! Uh, no. Nope! I was probably just so tired from babysitting you and Liam that I must’ve fallen asleep. No big deal.” He gets out of bed soon afterwards without another word, and Harry follows shortly behind him.

“Leaving so soon?” Harry calls from behind Louis, who’s on his way to the front area of his trailer.

“Yeah,” he answers, his voice lifted in a pitch Harry has never heard before. He sounds almost uncomfortable. “I, uh, I’ve got stuff I need to do. Louise has been on my case over a few errands so I need to take care of that.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Harry says, “but it’s Saturday? There’s no work today or tomorrow…”

“Well,” he coughs, “she told me it’s better if I get things done ASAP, which translates to: ‘ _if you don’t get things done soon you’re a dead man Tomlinson_ ’.”

As soon as Louis’ gathered his jacket and phone and the two boys are in front of the trailer door, Harry grabs Louis’ shoulder, preventing him from opening the door and leaving. Harry is many things, but he’s not stupid. He knows that Louis’ strange behaviour has to do with what happened last night.

“Wait.” And Louis turns around, clutching his jacket against his chest.

He wants to say something about the previous night. He really does. But he can’t, because not even Harry knows exactly what had happened. He remembers speaking, and he remembers vomiting out his deepest thoughts, even if the words are blurry in his memory. But he doesn’t know _why._ He can’t remember why.

Instead he delivers a shy smile. “At least let me make you something to drink. Some tea, maybe? After all, you’re the guest. And what kind of host would I be if you left unfed?”

Louis smiles. “As much as I appreciate the offer, Styles, I really do have to get going. I’ll see you later, though!”

And Harry attempts to blink back his brimming tears and push back the sour feeling of rejection and confusion as he watches Louis make his way out of the trailer.

 

**IV**

 

And well, Harry spends the rest of the filming process with nobody but Louis on his mind. The friendship they had developed since they met hasn't burned to the ground yet, gladly, and it feels like they become closer and closer.

However, neither of them mention the night of the drunken vomiting of thoughts. Harry thinks that Louis’ forgotten about it, and he can't bring himself to mention it either. The amount of humiliation he'd receive would be mortifying.

Even after coming to terms with his feelings, Harry knows there'd be no point in trying anything with Louis, no matter how much he wants to take him out. He knows he's not in love, but he still likes him. And he likes the way he makes him feel.

In the last remaining couple of days before everything wraps up with the filming and Harry will have nothing more to do with the movie except taking part in the promotion stage, his feelings and emotions towards Louis seem to rise even further. And it's all because Harry comes to fully realize that nobody will ever make him feel the way Louis does.

And there’s something about the way that Louis airbrushes his tattoos that settles differently with Harry. It’s completely different than how it was with Hailee or Louise. Maybe it’s the way his delicate fingers hold Harry’s arm still as he sprays the makeup onto his porcelain skin. Maybe it’s the way he’s so focused and to Harry he seems so determined to remove every single permanent mark of Harry’s past.

The way Louis works his magic makes Harry think that maybe Louis does want to erase every single ugly thought he’s ever thought, that he wants Harry to forget his past and start again on a new, blank page. And if it were possible, he’d let him. Harry would definitely let him.

But Louis isn't aware of his capabilities. Harry doesn't know if he'll ever be able to tell him. Maybe it's too late to tell him.

 

*****

 

“Hey H, you’re going to the wrap-up party tonight, right?” Liam asks, picking up an apple slice from the tray in front of them. They’re both in the process of filming their last scene together. It’s supposed to be a very emotional day for the two of them, but in the end Harry knows that they’ll probably end up partying together and going to a club together before Liam’s wedding. In Harry’s world, it’s inevitable.

“Why, of course I am Liam!” Harry says, as if it were the most ridiculous question on the planet. “But isn't the wrap-up party supposed to be, like, _after_ the last day of filming?”

“It's _supposed to be_ , yes. But it's the last Friday before filming ends, and Harrison said he managed to rent out an entire club for tonight. So we can get through our hangovers during the weekend and all.”

“Hmm, that's very smart of Harrison, actually. And of course, everyone knows that I’ll be the one who’ll be the most drunk there, so the use of the weekend would be a huge help.” Liam chuckles at that. “Good call on Harrison. He probably thought of me, he's so nice.”

“Incredibly,” Liam replies, smiling at Harry. “He also gave me a load of details about the address and all. So if you need a ride, I could definitely help you out, mate.”

“Awh. Thanks, Liam,” Harry says, pinching Liam’s cheek in false (but not completely false) adoration. “You're a true friend. Will, uhm, will Louis be there?”

Liam raises an eyebrow, suspicion taking over his eyes. “Most likely. Why do you ask?”

Harry shrugs. “Just wondering.”

All Liam does, however, is give him a look. It’s obvious that he’s not buying Harry’s answer. Fuck, is Harry really that bad of a liar?

“What? Can’t a guy just casually wonder if a co-worker is attending a party?”

“Whatever you say, H.” He rolls his eyes before walking away from the lad, Quinn already calling for the actors to get into places. “But just so you know, your secret is safe with me. Love you mate!”

Harry rolls his eyes in return. “Love you too, Li. And I don’t have a secret.” He mutters that last part, knowing very well how untrue the statement is.

 

*****

 

When Liam said that Ty Harrison rented out an entire club for the night, he really wasn’t kidding. The entirety of _Gibbs’ Tails_ was filled with cast and crew members from the _Greed and Lullabies_ set. Harry was so sure he recognized every single person in the building, besides the bartenders of course. Not one person that didn’t work on the set wasn’t there, and it sort of reminded Harry of a family reunion in a way.

Liam and Harry had arrived late to the party, fashionably, so by the time they stepped foot into the place everyone was already drinking and dancing. Louis didn’t go with them, much to Harry's disappointment. Neither Harry nor Liam knew his exact reasons why, but Louis had assured them that he would attend the party, just at a different time.

Harry heads for the bartender as soon as he spots them, already in need of a drink. People say hi to Harry as he walks and he tries his best to return the greetings to everyone, despite the fact that all he really wants is to drown his thoughts with alcohol.

By the time he’s on his fourth drink, he’s drunk and chatting with everybody and completely unbothered with his surroundings. He’s dancing and laughing and exactly how he wishes he could be for every second of his life.

That is, until, he feels a poke on the back of his shoulder.

He turns, and he doesn’t quite know what he was expecting, or who he was expecting to see behind him, but he knows that if he weren’t so hopelessly drunk right now he’d be disappointed with the result.

“Hi.” And oh, it’s one of the extras from the film. Harry believes that her name is Violet or something? She smiles at him, and by the look in her eyes it’s obvious that she’s also a bit tipsy.

Harry smiles back, a few giggles escaping his lips. “Hello, uhm…?”

“Morgan,” she finishes.

“Morgan, right.” Eh, close enough. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to say that you did an excellent job on this movie. You really are a great actor.”

“Why, thank you!”

“No problem,” she giggles. “And it was truly an honor working with you, Harry.”

He smirks, not replying directly to the girl. Even while drunk, it’s obvious to tell what this girl wants. Harry gets it a lot from fans, it’s truly become more predictable than anything.

“You know, if you’d like to go somewhere after the party with me, I’d be more than happy to,” she continues, wiggling her eyebrows subtly.

And there it is.

“Are you asking me to fuck you, Morgan?”

“Maybe I am… why? Is that bad?”

“Not at all.” He takes a short pause, and then the smirk on his face turns into a frown. “You have nice eyes.”

She blushes. “Oh, thanks!”

“They’re blue, right?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re nice.”

“You, uh, you already said that.”

“I know.” Shit, even just staring at her eyes makes Harry compare them to Louis’. But they’re nothing like Louis’ eyes. And he wants to see them so badly; he wants to talk to him so badly. “Do you know who else has blue eyes?”

“Who?”

“Louis Tomlinson.” He’s yelling over the music and he can barely hear himself, yet saying his name makes his cheeks warm. Makes his heart want to bounce out of his chest. “Have you seen him by any chance?”

“Um, no. No I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

He smiles once again, and his statement takes the girl completely by surprise. “I think I’m gonna go look for him. Thanks for the chat, Morgan.”

Morgan doesn’t get the chance to reply, as Harry is already halfway across the club looking for Louis. He searches everywhere around the club, but his eyes just don’t seem to come across Louis’. And in all honesty, he doesn’t quite know why he wants to see Louis so badly all of the sudden. He doesn’t know if it’s because he just genuinely wants to see Louis or if it’s because he just needs a familiar face to talk to.

Or if it's because he knows the time they have together is now limited. He doesn't know.

But Harry is drunk. And he’s too numb to know what his true thoughts are at the moment.

“Louis?” The name comes out before Harry can even think of voicing it.

“Hazzzz!” the lovely voice says just loud enough for Harry to hear it.

And yes, there he is. Standing beside Liam, drink in  his hand, giggling like it's the only he's capable of doing.

“It's soooo lovely to see youuuu!” he continues, giggling once again.

“Are you drunk right now, Tomlinson?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Are you actually drunk?”

“Very!” he replies.

“I may or may not have given him a few drinks,” says Liam, chuckling along with Harry. “I told him he needed to loosen up a bit since, you know, he's so stressed about leaving.”

Liam's words go by unnoticed by Harry, as all his focus is on how bright Louis looks in the dim lighting of the club.

“Liam!” A group of voices yell from another area of the club. Harry can't really tell who they are due to the low lighting. Liam smiles at them, raising his glass towards the group of people.

“I’m gonna go,” he tells the two drunk boys in front of him. “Might as well socialize, right?”

“It is a party after all,” Harry agrees.

When Liam leaves, it feels as if the club only increases in volume. The music is incredibly loud, and all Harry can feel is the vibration of the music that echoes in his ears. He doesn't even know if he's even in reality right now. For all he knows he could be invisible and just floating throughout the party.

“You know,” he says to Louis, although he can barely hear himself as it is, “I don't think I’ve ever seen you drunk before. Or maybe I have, and I was just too drunk to remember.”

Louis smiles, the wideness of it showing off his teeth. “You're not the only one who can get drunk, Styles! The world doesn't revolve around you.”

Harry scoffs. “I wish the world would revolve around anything _but_ me. I wish the world would forget I even exist once in a while.”

“Did you finally get tired of your fame?”

“I’ve been tired of it for a long time, Louis. But I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try. Even if I go into hibernation for years, the fame will only follow me.”

They're incredibly close now, with Louis’ face just inches away from Harry’s own. He doesn't know if people are staring, but honestly, he doesn't care. All he cares about now is how close Louis is to him, and how the warmth of his body radiates in a way that embraces Harry. And how that's all he wants to feel.

“So what are you going to do then? How are you gonna escape your nightmare of a world?”

“I’m not,” he answers. And fuck, Louis is so close to him and his eyes are completely hypnotic and _fuck!_ Harry just wants to kiss him right now. “But I do need someone to help me through it. Someone to hold my hand and guide me through it.”

“And who would that someone be?”

His words are like a trigger to Harry, because as soon as the words are spoken, his lips are on Louis’. They move backwards as they kiss, with their teeth clashing and tongues deep into the other’s mouth and their hands in each other's hair. Louis’ back hits a wall eventually, causing him to moan in response to the impact.

 _Fuck_ , Harry thinks. _Fuck, is this really happening right now?_ He'd never thought that kissing someone could feel like this, even as spontaneous as it is.

Before long the couple find themselves outside of the club. Harry doesn't quite know how it happens, but as soon as the cool air from outside hits him, he still can't breathe. And he's not sure, but he suspects it has to do with Louis.

They're against another wall now, next to the main entrance of the club. Harry’s lips are on Louis’ neck, and Louis’ hands are entangling themselves in his curls. Harry doesn't know if he's ever felt anything as wonderful as this. As wonderful as him.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, Harry.” Louis’ words echo in Harry’s mind. “Been wanting you for so long. I’ve wanted to kiss you since we exchanged numbers. Since you thanked me for that tea. Since you - _fuck!_ \- since you called me pretty. Nobody's ever called me pretty before.”

"Then why'd you leave?"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you leave and pretend I didn't call you pretty?"

"Because I was scare - fuck!," Harry hits a sweet spot on his neck, "I was scared that you were going to change your mind. That you wouldn't think I was pretty anymore."

“You shouldn't have to worry about that. You're beautiful, Louis,” he replies, separating his lips from Louis’ neck just long enough to say the words. “You're absolutely mesmerizing.”

“Would you say that if we weren't absolutely shattered right now?” His words are thick, cutting into the air.

“Fuck yeah I would.”

“You're lying. You're scared of rejection. At least, you are when you're sober. That's why you hide behind your fame, so that people don't reject you."

"Fuck, you really are smart, aren't you? Figuring out people like that."

"Smarter than people think."

"I wanna take you out," Harry blurts.

Louis stops, Harry follows. "You what?"

He can feel himself sobering up a bit, unsure if it has to do with the heated session he just shared with Louis, or because of the five words that just came out of his mouth.

"I wanna take you out," he repeats.

"Like, for real?"

He nods. "For real."

Louis smiles again, this time softer than the last. "I figured you just wanted to fuck and be done with me."

Shaking his head, almost frantically, Harry answers. "No, never. Not with you. I-I want to take things slow with you."

"Well, I'd love to go out with you, Harry, but I can't."

It's at this moment that Harry can feel his stomach drop by a thousand feet. His smile changes, forming a frown instead. "Why not?"

"Because I leave next week, and it wouldn't be fair to either of us if we went out and I just left right away."

He pauses, trying to come up with an excuse. "You know, Liam and I will also be leaving, you won't be the only one who does."

"Yeah," Louis replies, "but you're going to LA. I'm not. Liam will be there with you, and hell, Niall will be there too when he gets back from his tour."

His frown deepens. "Well, where will you be going then?"

"New York," he explains, "Ms. Teasdale got me a job on Broadway, actually."

"Broadway?" When Louis nods his head, Harry's entire expression softens. "That's great Louis, really. I'm so happy for you. I'll miss you though."

"You sure you don't wanna fuck just once? So that we won't have to wait or anything?"

After a few moments of thinking, Harry shakes his head. "Like I said: you're different. I'd rather wait, if that's okay with you."

Instead of replying, Louis' smile widens and kisses him again. Harry lets him, enjoying the time he can spend with Louis for just a little bit longer as they head back inside the club.

 

**V**

 

"Do you, Liam, take Sophia as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Sophia, take Liam as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

The guests in their seats begin to clap and cheer as soon as Liam and Sophia join their lips together. Harry is one of them, of course, however the moment is only bittersweet for him as he imagines the same kind of scene except with him and Louis in Liam and Sophia's places instead.

He clears his throat. No, that's not going to happen. That's never going to happen.

Even in February, the Florida weather is exhausting, and Harry can feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck and his fabric covered back. Why did Liam have to have his wedding outside? Sure, the scenery is beautiful. Everyone loves beaches and how romantic they are and all that. But the current exasperating weather takes too much away from what is supposed to be enjoyed.

All Harry really wants right now is to go back inside the house Liam had rented for the occasion. At least the house has air conditioning and walls where Harry can hide from the burning sun. Where he can hide from Louis without making a fool out of himself.

Because not only is Louis Tomlinson sitting right behind Harry, but Harry’s trying so hard not to look back and get lost in those beautiful blue eyes of his. He can’t give in to his temptations, no matter how tempting they may be.

Once the ceremony is finished and all the guests are back inside, Liam calls Harry up to propose a toast. Harry was supposed to prepare himself a short speech for the wedding, however due to all the stress and panic that surrounded his best friend, he forgot to write one. Go figure.

So now he’s standing in the middle of the rented living room, a glass of wine in his hand, on the verge of unintentionally humiliating his best friend and his wife because he forgot to prepare a speech and now has no idea on what to say.

“To Liam Payne,” Harry begins, lifting the glass while numbers of other guests follow along, “and Sophia Smith - or should I say, Sophia _Payne_ now.” Murmurs of agreement between guests rise in the middle of his words. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? She’s definitely going to be in  a lot of _pain_ tomorrow morning after all this.”

People laugh (mostly Niall). Liam chokes on his drink. Sophia almost drops her glass.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry grimaces, “that was inappropriate, wasn’t it? What I meant to say was--”

“Okay, thank you Harry!” exclaims Liam, signaling the end to that horrendous speech. He chuckles nervously, wiping at his chin where he spilled some of his wine. “Thank you for that. Does anyone else want to give a speech? Anyone at all?”

When someone Harry doesn’t find familiar steps up to say something, he finds himself walking away from the entire scene. He walks to the door leading to the balcony, trying so hard not to laugh before actually stepping outside.

He doesn’t finish his wine once he’s outside. Actually, he’s not in the mood to drink at all. Which is strange for him. Incredibly strange. But he likes the emotions that sobriety brings him. It’s better than trying to numb every thought and sentiment with alcohol.

“Well, well, well, I never thought I’d live to see the day that Harry Styles himself ruins a wedding speech with a dirty joke,” a too familiar voice speaks from behind him. Harry doesn’t even have to turn around to know who the person is. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“I was nervous, okay?” He tries to explain, but there’s no hiding the smile in his voice. “I know it was awful, but I didn’t think he’d actually make me say something…”

“It’s fine, Harry,” Louis says, now standing right next to him against the railing of the balcony. “I liked the speech, to be honest. It was very… different.”

Harry chuckles. “Different, huh? You like different?”

“I like different, but to an extent of course.” His eyes are electric in front of the setting sun. He eyes the glass in Harry’s hands. “Are you not drinking anything tonight?”

“Nah, I don’t really feel like it. I think it’s time for a change. Something different, you know?”

“Yeah.” He stops speaking for a few moments, obviously trying to prepare his next words carefully. But Harry doesn’t care. He’d listen to anything Louis would say. “So, how have you been Harry? I didn’t hear much from you after the party.”

“I’ve been okay. Nothing special. I can’t wait for the _Greed and Lullabies_ premiere, though. It’ll be fun reuniting with everyone, don’t you think?”

Louis frowns, obviously not happy with the change in topic. However, he lets it pass and goes along with the flow of the conversation. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll attend the premiere, though.”

“What? Why not?”

He chuckles. “‘Cos I was just the makeup assistant! It’s not like I was the lead role or anything. And besides, isn’t the movie premiere reserved for the actors and directors or something like that?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry replies. Now that he thinks about it, he hadn’t seen any of the crew members at previous movie premieres. He knows he would’ve recognized them if they made an appearance. After a short pause, Harry continues. “So, how is the wonderful world of Broadway? Full of divas?”

“Ha! I’d say the movie industry has a lot more divas than theatre.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. I am one, if you can’t remember.”

At that, Louis goes silent. Fuck, Harry thinks, he fucked up again, didn’t he?

“You were never a diva, Haz.” His words almost make Harry’s eyes bulge out in surprise. “You just needed help. Emotional support. A friend. A hand to guide you through things, remember?”

And, well. Harry doesn’t really know how to respond to that. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, meeting Louis’ eyes afterwards. How is it that Louis never fails to leave Harry speechless?

“You know, I really like that tattoo,” Harry finally responds.

“Which one? The hand one?”

He nods. “Yeah. Sometimes I forget I even have it. But when you said it was your favourite, it got me thinking. And I remembered why I got it in the first place: because I needed a hand to guide me through things, like you said.”

“Right. You’ve got plenty of them, though, plenty of friends to help you.”

“Yeah. But I’ve been a shitty friend in return,” he responds, resting his back against the railing, “like making dirty jokes at their weddings, for example.”

“Okay, but the joke was funny. And I bet everyone already forgot about it by now. It’s been like, what? Ten minutes already? It’s completely erased from their memories.”

“I hope so.”

“And I don’t think there are many celebrities here tonight, so there aren’t many places your little joke could go. But it’s weird, I thought Liam would have more actor friends or something.”

“He does. But he prefers to keep his family and friends outside of that industry closer. The only really close friends he has in the world of Hollywood are Niall and I. And now you, of course.”

“But I’m not famous or anything, I just do makeup.”

“Talent isn’t necessarily linked to fame,” Harry tells him, a small smile on his face. “And besides, you’ll rise soon enough.”

“And you’re so sure about that, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah I am.”

Louis smiles, and it’s a smile Harry has never seen on his face before. His heart feels like it’s on fire just being in the presence of that smile. “I’ve really missed talking to you, you know.”

Harry’s entire face softens. “I’ve missed you too. Like a lot.”

“And I’m really glad Liam invited me here.”

“Really? And why is that?”

“Because it proves that he doesn't hate me after all those pranks I pulled on him back on set,” he jokes. “And because I knew you’d be here.”

Oh. _Oh._

Fuck Harry, do something now before you fuck up again!

Abruptly, he clears his throat. “You know,” he begins, crossing his fingers behind his back, “I’ll be here in Miami for the rest of the week.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, already knowing where this is headed. “Really now?”

“Yeah, I’m giving myself a little vacation before going back to LA. I’m guessing that you’re going back to New York when the weekend ends?”

“Actually no. I’m also on a little vacation myself. The musical I’ve been working on, it, uh, it didn’t really work out.”

“Oh,” he frowns, “I’m sorry. I could help you find a job, if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you. But, uh, why do you ask?”

“Huh?”

He giggles. “Why do you ask if I’m going back to New York?”

“Because if you’re free, I’d love to take you out tomorrow night.”

He waits for his response, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Louis doesn’t give him an answer until Harry’s sure he's about to start crying out of humiliation. “I thought you wanted to go slow?”

He bites his lip, accepting his inquiry instead of a flat out rejection. “I do. I just figured we’d start with a night out. If that's okay with you, of course…”

Louis smiles wider than Harry has ever seen. “I’d absolutely love a night out.”

“Perfect,” is what Harry’s response would have been if Louis had given him enough time to speak. But he doesn't, because before Harry realizes it, Louis’ kissing him right there and then on the balcony. And it's a feeling Harry would find himself enjoying forever, the feeling of Louis’ lips on his. It ignites the fire he's been longing to light for the past couple of years.

It fills him up and completes him.

“Haz!” a thick accent fills the open air on the balcony. Louis and Harry pull apart from each other in surprise and come to face a very drunk Niall. “Your speech was fucking _hilarious_ ! Holy shit, it was absolutely _golden_!” His laughs are enormously loud, and the pair can't help but laugh along with him.

“Niall,” Harry begins, chuckles still evident in his voice, “I’d love to chat with you but we're kind of in the middle of something here.”

Niall’s laughs fade away as soon as he sees Harry’s gestures towards himself and Louis. Niall almost drops his glass. “Fuck! You guys are - my bad, my bad, I’ll get outta here. Just pretend I was never here! You lads enjoy yourselv - but not like _enjoy_ your--”

“ _Thank you Niall_ ,” Louis says, waving a goodbye to the Irishman as he stumbles out of the area. He sighs as soon as he’s out of sight, turning back to talk to Harry. “You gotta love that guy. What a lad.”

“It's true,” he agrees, smiling at the pretty boy in front of him. He laughs. “You can't just not love Niall.”

Louis smiles at him, so lovely and so genuinely. The two decide to follow the Irishman and go back inside, but not before stealing another sweet kiss from each other.

 

*****

 

On July 8th, _Greed and Lullabies_ premieres worldwide. It's a hot day, the day of the premiere, with a blazing sun and scorching heat. The actors and Simon walk down the red carpet that day, and they take every step blinded by the flashing cameras.

Liam walks down the red carpet, Sophia's hand in his. And the bright jeweled ring on her finger is there, reminding everyone of the wedding that took place not many months ago.

Harry walks down the carpet as well, and this time not alone. Unlike previous premieres that he's attended by himself, he brings someone with him. Someone to share the experience with. And so he brings Louis, hands held firmly together as they make their way down the carpet. It has never been a secret that over the past few months, Harry had been dating someone. And while he's not exactly popular in the media's eye, he's not necessarily unwelcome. And besides, Louis' strong. He's always been strong.

And now while the two of them walk down the carpet, Harry doesn't hate his thoughts right now. He now has the helping hand he's always longed for. Someone to guide him along the path that fame brings.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt that was given was:
> 
> Harry is a successful actor and the recent hired assistant to his make up artist is a quite of a menace. He plays pranks on his manager and costars, but never Harry. Harry who catches the easy and light atmosphere with everyone besides him wonders what his reason behind this is.
> 
> Once again, I hope everyone enjoyed reading this! Please don't feel afraid to leave feedback, as I would love to hear your thoughts!


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